


Of Knights and Their Ladies

by SeeThemFlying



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Canon - Book, F/M, First Kiss, Inspired By A TV Show, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-18
Updated: 2019-12-02
Packaged: 2021-02-12 19:41:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 21,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21481774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeeThemFlying/pseuds/SeeThemFlying
Summary: And thus, when the songs were all that remained of the Kingslayer and his Wench, of Goldenhand the Just and the Blue Knight, of Jaime and Brienne, the singers spent a thousand years, and a thousand years more singing of a knight and his lady.Or of a lady and her knight.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 359
Kudos: 201





	1. Jack & Aliena

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! Here is a little thing I wrote on my commute. It is set post book canon, although I am a little vague about what exactly that entails. Just know that something happened with Lady Stoneheart, Brienne and Jaime survived, they rescued Sansa, and then fought together in the War for the Dawn.
> 
> The dialogue for this story is taken from Episode 5 of the TV Show "The Pillars of the Earth", and was originally spoken (with slight modifications) by my other OTP Jack and Aliena. Here, "The Song of Joramun" plays substitute for a real medieval epic, "The Song of Roland", which I have also added an altered line from.
> 
> I might do a second part if the mood strikes me.
> 
> I hope you enjoy.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime and Brienne meet in the godswood...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As everyone seemed to want more of this, I decided to set myself a bit of a challenge. As this story is about Jaime and Brienne's place in history/legends, I decided to go a bit meta and make every single chapter using dialogue from another story, whether that be a TV show, book, film, or whatever. I don't have an unlimited supply of brilliant romantic scenes that would work for these two, so I am going to throw it out to you for the remaining chapters.
> 
> I want suggestions for scenes I could use! So, if you have one, please tell me what book/film/TV show it is from, and which scene it is exactly. I will endeavour to watch/read it and then make a chapter out of it! The scenes you suggest will ultimately dictate in what direction this story will go, so while I may select some more scenes, I throw it out to you!
> 
> To honour the fact that the dialogue is taken from other media, the chapters will be named after the couples who originally used these lines, meaning (in a weird way) Jaime and Brienne are already part of a wider story, making her objections to not belonging in a story unfounded.

Who knew that after such a cold winter there would be such a glorious spring?

Now the dead had retreated back into the Lands of Always Winter, the frozen Northern sun had once more made an appearance in the otherwise grey sky. Flowers started to bloom in the courtyard, where once there had only been blood, mud, and death, and the Godswood seemed more alive than Brienne had ever known it. Once she had recovered from her wounds sustained during the Siege of Winterfell, Brienne of Tarth had thrown herself into helping rebuild a fragile life in the Stark's ancestral home, which was now filled with wildlings, northmen, southerners... and Lannisters. Dedicating herself to the young Lady Sansa in honour of her mother, Brienne tried to fulfil her vows, even though she now knew they were sometimes hard to keep.

It was that awful choice offered by a half-dead wraith that had made Brienne realise that life was not always a song, yet, at the same time, it had revealed the most transcendent feeling that could only belong in the pages of a book. Once she put a name to it - _love _\- Brienne had kept it entirely locked within her heart, like a caged bird, for fear that if she let it fly away it too would be polluted and tainted by a dark world.

Yet, even so, in the little time she got to herself, Brienne could not help but look at _him_. It was a foolish dream to ever hope he would look back. While they had saved each other countless times - from the Bloody Mummers, from a bear, from Lady Catelyn's shade, from Littlefinger's wrath, from the Army of the Dead - Brienne knew the gentle caring feeling Ser Jaime had for her was nothing more than friendship, even though he had turned away from his sister forever. Knights with honour loved beautiful ladies - _deserved _beautiful ladies - and while he was a knight with honour, she could never be the lady standing by his side.

In spite of this great personal tragedy born of her monstrous face, Brienne was a maid at heart, and still liked to read stories about gallant knights and their fair ladies. Imagining herself wielding a famous blade, or being crowned Queen of Love and Beauty, she would lose herself in a better world. Once much of the Winterfell library had been restored, Lady Sansa had granted Brienne permission to read any book she desired.

"I like _this one," _Lady Sansa had said, pointing out a well-thumbed book she claimed she had read a thousand times.

Consequently, one bright morning, Brienne had dressed herself in a comfortable shirt and breeches, before taking that small leather bound book from the shelves. Desiring a moment alone, she had gone down to the Godswood to read in peace, bringing only herself, the book, and Oathkeeper. Once there, nestled against the roots of an ancient tree, feeling the bark against her back, she became lost in tales of romance and love.

_Aegon the king, our great emperor, has been in Westeros for seven full years..._

"Morning."

Anticipating an attack, Brienne leapt to her feet, grabbing Oathkeeper as quickly as she could. Spinning around, she found herself face to face with her knight, Ser Jaime, his beautiful face alight with laughter.

_Not my knight, _she thought, _a knight. A true knight. A man with honour. Yet never my knight._

Finding herself pulled into his laughter, Brienne dropped Oathkeeper down to her side, relief overtaking her. "Don't ever sneak up on me," she warned him, trying to hide her teeth as she smiled.

Still grinning, Jaime cocked an eyebrow at her. "I didn't, I made lots of noise. You were just so engrossed in that book that you didn't hear me." Reminded of her fallen book, Brienne rested Oathkeeper on the ground and picked up the leather bound volume, before leaning back against the tree once more. To her surprise, Ser Jaime joined her, sitting closely beside her.

"I've never heard of a woman with such a library," he teased, before pointing at the book. "Which one is this?"

Opening the book for him, bending the spine, Brienne put it in his hands, knowing that even though he sometimes struggled with reading, the colours and neat writing would be enough to stop the letters dancing before him. To her joy, however, it was clear Jaime recognised the text as, after his lovely green eyes scanned a few lines, he could name its title. "_The Song of Joramun_."

Brienne nodded, pleased he had heard of the story. "It is about this knight who has a big horn and he blows it so hard..."

"His head blows open," finished Jaime with a grin.

"You know it!" she squawked, surprised. It had been one of the few books Lord Selwyn had back in his library on Tarth and, as it was a weird brew of northern legend and southern virtues, Brienne had spent many years thinking _The Song of Joramun _a Tarth oddity.

Ser Jaime's expression suddenly became soft, perhaps due to a fond reminiscence. "A maid at Casterly Rock told it to me when I was a boy, but she didn't call him Joramun, she changed his name to Foolish Jaime."

Brienne could not help but giggle, even though she was intrigued to discover how the tale of Joramun and his horn had got as far as the Westerlands. "How had she heard it?"

"Her husband told it to her," Jaime replied, a strawberry blush coming to his cheeks. "The wildling seduction she described it as."

"He was a wildling?" said Brienne, amazed. It was quite unusual for one of the freefolk to venture so far south, especially to the palatial grandeur of Casterly Rock.

"Yes, he was," admitted Jaime, edging slightly closer to her. "And he was also a storyteller. But she laughed so hard at that one he got very angry."

Brienne could imagine that the tale would elicit raucous laughter on first telling. It was for that reason she had loved _The Song of Joramun _so dearly when she was a girl. "Do you know any other wildling stories?" asked Brienne, intrigued, even though she knew she could ask one of the many freefolk who now called Winterfell home for their legends. Yet, strangely, she wanted to hear each and every one in Ser Jaime Lannister's sweet voice.

At her question, he nodded slowly, his golden hair catching in the spring light. "Yes, a few, but the best tales were the ones that I told her."

"You?" she asked, trying to make her tone full of surprise, even though, in truth, she thought Ser Jaime one of the best storytellers she knew. Who else could make bottomless sapphire mines on Tarth sound convincing?

"_Me_, I made them up, you know?" he grinned, suddenly looking proud. Pausing for a heartbeat, he then began to weave a new tale, just for her, just for this quiet moment in the Godswood. "There once was a very brave knight..."

Charmed, Brienne leant forward. "Who...?"

"_Who_..." continued Jaime, putting together the story in his mind, "went into battle and received a mortal wound."

She could picture it well; in the battle against the dead, there had been nothing but thousands of dying men, all crying for their mothers and their sweethearts. Yet, now, there was a new dawn on a new world, and this one needed sweet stories. Ser Jaime seemed to agree. "And as he lay there, dying..."

Eagerly, Brienne took up the tale he had left hanging in the air. "His soul flew to a house... where there lived a woman."

As Ser Jaime's smile grew, three words escaped his rosebud lips. "Whom he loved."

Brienne could well imagine the type of woman he was thinking of; beautiful, slender, with a graceful gait and an upturned nose. She would take the golden knight's hand and give him many children, and they would be immortalised in a song as a Ser and his Lady. Brienne thought that Jaime Lannister deserved to be part of such a song, because he truly was the best of men.

"Yes," said Brienne gently. "I can see her."

At that confession, Jaime moved closer, his green eyes holding all the wonder of spring that had newly returned to the world. "And his soul ate with her," he said, his voice almost breaking, "and slept with her, and was so filled with _longing _for her..."

Brienne imagined the maiden that Jaime would lie beside; dazzling and iridescent and not _her_, a real lady from a song with a voice like a nightingale and a smile as bright as the sun. Back on Tarth, Brienne had read so many stories that she knew how they always ended - a beautiful woman with an honourable man - so she could fill in the gaps for Ser Jaime. "He flew back to his master and brought him back to life, in the hope that..."

And then, quite suddenly, the song ended, because Ser Jaime surged forwards, his hand on her face, his lips on _her _lips, his tongue skirting along her teeth. As she had left her armour back in her room and was only wearing a shirt and soft woollen jerkin, Brienne of Tarth could feel Ser Jaime Lannister's heart beating wildly in his chest, inches from her own.

For a moment, it was just the two of them in the Winterfell Godswood, kissing like a knight and his lady, as if this was the denouement of some grand song like _Florian and Jonquil_, or _The Song of Joramun_. He had a valiant heart and a famous sword, and, for a transient instant, she could almost feel a crown of soft winter roses in her hair.

But then she remembered.

Pulling away from the good knight from a story, Brienne scrambled to her feet, taking Oathkeeper with her. Missing the feel of her, Ser Jaime jumped up too, his handsome face desperately contorted in confusion. It was so unfair. Here they were at the end of a song - the Others pushed back, Spring reclaimed, and a Stark back in Winterfell - yet the picture was all wrong. Ser Jaime was the handsome knight, golden and achingly beautiful, both inside and out, yet the whole scene was marred by the lumbering presence of Brienne of Tarth.

"Don't mock me, ser!" she demanded, as tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. Brienne would never be one for roses, or songs, or kisses. "Don't you ever touch me again!"

His face fell but she did not care. Brienne refused to blemish his story with her presence.

So she marched off the page.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! If you have any comments or requests for scenes, please put them in the comments below!


	2. Gilbert & Anne

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne sees Jaime after the incident in the godswood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for coming back to my daily "what I wrote in ten minutes on my commute" instalment!
> 
> As everyone seemed to want more of this, I decided to set myself a bit of a challenge. As this story is about Jaime and Brienne's place in history/legends, I decided to go a bit meta and make every single chapter using dialogue from another story, whether that be a TV show, book, film, or whatever. I don't have an unlimited supply of brilliant romantic scenes that would work for these two, so I am going to throw it out to you for the remaining chapters.
> 
> I want suggestions for scenes I could use! So, if you have one, please tell me what book/film/TV show it is from, and which scene it is exactly. I will endeavour to watch/read it and then make a chapter out of it! The scenes you suggest will ultimately dictate in what direction this story will go, so while I may select some more scenes, I throw it out to you!
> 
> To honour the fact that the dialogue is taken from other media, the chapters will be named after the couples who originally used these lines, meaning (in a weird way) Jaime and Brienne are already part of a wider story, making her objections to not belonging in a story unfounded.
> 
> With that request made, this chapter's dialogue is taken from the bridge scene in the miniseries/film Anne of Avonlea (1987), originally exchanged between Gilbert and Anne herself!
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

In the days that followed, Brienne tried her best to avoid him.

If Ser Jaime entered Winterfell's Great Hall for supper, she made sure to loiter near Lady Sansa, giving the impression that she was busily engaged as her sworn sword; if she saw him sparring in the courtyard, she would slip away unnoticed; if she spotted him approaching along a corridor, she used an alternative route to her destination, even if it was long winded and impractical. The only time she ever truly spent more than a moment with him was when they changed the guard in watching Lady Sansa's chamber. Ser Jaime was Lady Sansa's sworn sword too, so sometimes he had the watch following Brienne's.

It made for an awkward few seconds.

Trying desperately to ignore him, Brienne threw herself into life in Winterfell. As the Others had been pushed back and life redeemed, the North had been left under the care of Lord Rickon's regent, the Lady Sansa. Given the hellishness of the Long Night, it was not known what had become of some other parts of the Seven Kingdoms, so scouting groups were needed to venture forth and discover what remained of the rest of the humanity. Brienne silently listened as plans were made as to what to do next and struggled to push her own feelings away when his name was mentioned.

_And what about Ser Jaime...?_

A couple of days after the incident in the godswood, Brienne went back to the lonely spot next to the tree where she and Jaime had kissed. Over dinner, Lady Sansa had asked Brienne how she was enjoying _The Song of Joramun, _causing her sworn sword to suddenly realise that she had abandoned the book in her desperation to get away from the man she loved. Consequently, when she had a spare moment, Brienne decided to go in search of it but, to her horror, discovered it was nowhere in sight.

_Maybe he took it, _she thought. _As a token, as a memento, as a fragment of a song that can never be sung..._

Knowing Lady Sansa would be desperately sorry to lose her favourite book, Brienne made her way to the newly reconstituted Winterfell Library. The original library had been burnt many years ago, but in her attempt to plant seeds in a garden she would never see bloom, Lady Sansa had collected books. It was fairly threadbare in comparison to the great libraries in King's Landing or at Oldtown, but it was getting bigger. Sansa was dedicated to seeing it grow, so Brienne deeply hoped she had not put her lady's attempts back by one book. Therefore, it was only natural that Brienne's heart fell when she noticed the _Song of Joramun _shaped hole on the shelves when she arrived.

To Brienne, it was not just a physical book that was lost, but a particular beauty, melody, and voice that had been spun out into the world by several artists; by the long dead singer who had first sung of Joramun, of the scribe who diligently wrote down his words, of the illuminator who picked out Joramun's features on the frontispiece, and even of the binder who had so carefully prepared the volume.

All gone, because Brienne of Tarth was scared of Jaime Lannister's kiss.

Angry with herself, she moved to look out of the tower window, wanting to be reminded that there was some beauty in the world separate from a lost book and the verdant green of Jaime's eyes. Looking down into the courtyard below, Brienne saw the people of Winterfell going about their business, as full of life as the most resplendent garden in King's Landing. Watching them, Brienne was reminded that many of them were soon leaving for other parts of the realm in order to discover what lay beyond Winterfell, beyond the North. If life was to truly be victorious, there had to be people outside the indestructible, magic-ridden walls of the old castle.

_This moment is so fragile, so very perfect, _she thought, _but will be gone in a moment. Like a song._

"What are you thinking about?"

Nearly jumping out of her skin, Brienne turned around to see Ser Jaime just behind her, a book in his hand; _The Song of Joramun. _Putting it down on the table, he took a few tentative steps forward and came to lean on the window ledge beside her, joining her in watching the scene in the courtyard. This close to him, Brienne could smell the scent that was so undeniably him that existed beneath the trace of leather and soap that the undiscerning would sense when he drew near. Even though she was scared, worried what would pass between them, Brienne kept her place beside him, wanting to be brave.

"I am afraid to speak or move," she admitted, "for fear that all this beauty will just vanish, like a broken silence."

_Like the silence between us, _she thought. _Tragic, painful, but necessary and beautiful._

Gazing at the people below for only a moment more, Ser Jaime turned to look at Brienne, a small smile curling across his lips. "Doesn't it remind you of the gardens at King's Landing, filled with flowers? Filled with life?"

"Yes," Brienne said, surprised; she had made that very comparison herself. "I do not want any of it to change. I wish I could just hold onto these days forever, but I have a feeling that things will never be the same again, will they?"

_I am talking about the scouting groups leaving Winterfell, _she thought. _I am talking about spring. I am talking about you and me._

Perhaps seeing some emotion in her eyes, Jaime reached out to touch her. It was a gentle press of his hand against her shoulder and contained little of the passion he had shown in the godswood. It was a caring touch; the touch of a friend.

"I won't change," he smiled. "That's the least I can promise you."

She knew what he was talking about; he would still be the same Jaime she knew so well even if they crossed that invisible barrier from friends into lovers. Brienne feared it was true, mainly because she was so very unworthy of taking her place beside him in the song he could still write. Ser Jaime Lannister deserved a melody that would last the ages, whereas she could only give him a tawdry ditty.

Taking her silence for understanding, Ser Jaime fixed her with an impassioned look. "Brienne, there is something I want to ask you..."

"Jaime, please don't," she stammered, knowing what was coming now he had revealed his hand in the press of his lips against hers in the godswood. Turning away from his beautiful face, Brienne tried to hide her tears, even as they began spilling down her cheeks.

"What is it?" he asked, his aching pain evident in his tone. "You've been avoiding me for days, ever since the godswood..."

"I never wanted to make you care for me so," Brienne admitted, even though it was a lie and nothing but the honest truth. She wanted him so much, but he could do so much better, and in the end above all things she desired the absolute best for him. "I kept away so you wouldn't."

That seemed to hurt him, as Ser Jaime took his hand from her shoulder and looked away, back down towards the people in the courtyard below. "Well, I won't be staying at Winterfell for long," he said, his voice slightly bitter. "I must go back to Casterly Rock, to see what remains... to see if anything can be salvaged."

Wanting him to know that she cared, Brienne fixed him with what she hoped was a brilliant smile, even though there were tears on her cheeks. "Ser Jaime, I am so proud of you. I know that place holds bad memories but... you must do your duty to your people, as I must do my duty to mine."

_Without you, I don't know what that is, _she thought, _but maybe I can find out once you are gone._

At her smile, Ser Jaime turned back to look at her, his green eyes glistening. "I am sorry about the other day in the godswood; I only wanted to show you how much I care. And maybe you don't think I am good enough for you now, but I will be some day."

That was such a preposterous statement that Brienne shook her head. "No, Ser Jaime, you are a great deal _too _good for me." He looked at her confusedly, searching for the words, yet she made sure to stop him before he could speak. "But you want someone who will adore you, somebody who will be happy just to hang on your arm like a beautiful maiden from a story. I couldn't do that..."

_I would never be good enough for you, _she thought, _because you need a legend, and I am only Brienne the Beauty._

"Brienne," he said, his voice breaking, "that's not what I am looking for at all, I..."

"We would end up like two old crows fighting all the time," she claimed, trying to find a reason that would make sense to him that would convey she loved him but could never be worthy of him. "I know you would be unhappy, and you would wish we had never done it."

"Everybody expects it," he countered, lifting himself up from his position on the window ledge in an attempt to wrap his arms around her. "They have seen us at Winterfell together these past months. You must feel that?"

She did feel it, Brienne could not lie to herself or him. Yet she knew what expectation was and, every time her life had thrown it at her, she had always failed to meet it. "Well then," she said, valiantly attempting to defend her position, "it would be for all the wrong reasons, Jaime."

"I..."

"You just think that you love me," she declared, knowing that it was truly an impossibility for a man like Jaime Lannister, both reviled as the Kingslayer and beloved as Goldenhand the Just, to ever love a lowly creature such as her.

Ignoring her attempts to pull away, Ser Jaime held Brienne close, and she could feel both the beat of his hammering heart and the warmth of his breath. "Brienne, I have loved you for so long I don't remember how it started. I need you... I can't go away knowing that if I had just..."

Finding the strength against the warmth of his body and the beauty of his heart, Brienne managed to withdraw. She tried to tell him that she loved him, but that it was wrong for her to besmirch his name with it. "I promise I will always be here if you need me," she vowed. "Good friends are always together in spirit. Let's not change, Ser Jaime. Let's just go on being good friends."

Ser Jaime gave her a sad smile. "Friends? I thought we were kindred spirits... with matching swords." Brienne had to admit, there was something poetic about the way they had battled the dead, side by side, with two halves of Ned Stark's sword. Yet, undoubtedly, in a thousand years’ time, songs would be sung of Ser Jaime Lannister wielding Ice against the dead, while Brienne the Beauty and Oathkeeper would be a whisper, a forgotten footnote. Ugly women rarely made history. Ser Jaime did not seem to care, however.

"Please say yes," he said ardently, starlight in his eyes.

The answer she gave him hurt her more than words could say, but it was entirely necessary because she loved him so much.

"I can't, Ser Jaime," she whispered, tears rolling down her cheeks. "I am so desperately sorry."

And without another word she fled from the library, knocking _The Song of Joramun _to the floor as she did so.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed that! If you have any comments on my story (or even requests for scenes I could do), please get in touch!


	3. Yuri & Lara

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime leaves for Casterly Rock, and Brienne is not sure of the best way of saying goodbye...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys, thanks for coming back!
> 
> This chapter's dialogue is taken from the 1965 film "Doctor Zhivago". I say dialogue, but in truth Yuri and Lara mainly communicate in stares, so there is a lot of that going on in this chapter. It is taken from the moment when Lara leaves Varykino, leaving Yuri behind.
> 
> I hope you enjoy, and if you did, please leave a comment or kudos.

With her rejection came a silence so profound that Brienne thought words would never pass between them again. Ser Jaime retreated from her, throwing himself into preparing for his upcoming departure for Casterly Rock. Brienne knew it was a necessity; it was vital that the survivors in Winterfell attempted to re-establish connections with the South once more, but even so it pained her to see him go, especially considering that she felt she had hurt him rather than adequately explain the truth of their situation.

_I can never marry you, Ser Jaime, _she thought, _because you are all that is good in the world, and you deserve your equal; a moon to your sun._

_And I can never be that..._

Whereas before their meeting in the library Brienne had found she had actively had to try to avoid him, now it was him that was the shadow, flitting away from her with the movement of the sun. It was what she deserved, Brienne knew, but even so his distance and his absence hurt her deeply. Over the years, her love for him had been the sweetest ache she had nurtured; first a seedling, then a sprout, and now a tall strong tree that even the wildest winds could not pull down. Yet, while it pleased her to have cultivated something so beautiful, Brienne knew that its majesty would mean being separated from Ser Jaime would hurt more than she had the vocabulary to describe it.

As the days went on, Brienne became aching aware that the time for him to leave was rapidly approaching. Knowing she could not ask Ser Jaime directly when he intended to depart, Brienne tried to come at it from the side. However, her endeavour was not successful. When she questioned Lady Sansa, she would just get soothing platitudes - _not quite yet, do not worry _\- while Pod, who sometimes trained with Ser Jaime, would just blush red and tell Brienne he did not know.

In fact, Brienne only discovered he was leaving the moment it happened.

After finishing her duty watching Lady Sansa's door early one morning, Brienne decided to go for a walk, wanting a moment with the stars, the sky, and herself. Sometimes, when she looked up into the heavens, she dreamed she could see herself and Ser Jaime, like lovers from a story; their fight on the bridge, Jaime losing his hand, the baths at Harrenhal, the bearpit, the gift of a sword, Lady Catelyn's dead eyes, Jaime tending Brienne's wounds, their discovery and rescue of Lady Sansa, the triumphant return to Winterfell, the fight against the dead, their kiss in the godswood...

Yet Brienne knew such a tale could never be writ in the sky, because their story ended with Ser Jaime, the golden knight, being rejected by a beast. The gods would not be so cruel to make it celestial. Feeling a kind of heavy sadness overcome her, Brienne was only pulled out of her mental prison by the sound of horses’ hooves clattering in the courtyard. Wondering who it could be at this time, Brienne rounded the corner to discover Ser Jaime feeding his horse Honour a few oats. In the light - halfway between night and day - Ser Jaime looked like every inch the fairy tale prince he was, with the golden hair, shining eyes, and well-cut armour. He was surrounded by men loading their horses’ saddlebags and making plans for the journey to Casterly Rock; several tried to engaged Ser Jaime in conversation, but he was focussing on Honour, wanting to make sure his mount was well prepared for the long journey.

_As he should, _she thought proudly.

Brienne clung to the shadows, just watching. It was evident their departure was imminent, but she wondered why Ser Jaime had picked to leave so early. Was that he wanted a good first's day's ride? Or that he hoped to sneak out without saying farewell? Brienne hoped it was not the latter; she did not want to have put him in such a position where he felt unable even to say goodbye.

When it became clear that the men were ready to go, Brienne knew she could not wait any longer. Even though she felt like she was intruding on a scene from a story where the handsome knight departed for his childhood home in order to begin his life anew, Brienne knew she could not let him leave without letting him know she cared. Despite not being in possession of the words with which to tell him that, Brienne stepped into the light of the courtyard and fixed her eyes on him, hoping he would notice her. Perhaps feeling the heat of her gaze, Jaime looked up from getting Widow's Wail out of his scabbard and turned his perfect green eyes on her. To her surprise, his mouth fell open when he saw her, and his sword went clattering to the floor.

_Was he really expecting I would not want to say goodbye?_

For several moments they stared at each other, trapped in the pulling comfort of the other's gaze. Ser Jaime's men continued to potter around him, making the last preparations that he could evidently not bring himself to make.

"How many?"

"All of us."

"There's not enough horses."

"Friends, there's got to be enough horses."

"It's alright, Lady Sansa can arrange new horses in the morning for the rest of the party, it is just Ser Jaime wants to go now. There are important people counting on him."

"Alright, we'll catch you up."

At that moment, Brienne realised that all Ser Jaime's companions were mounted and ready to depart, while he still stood mutely next to Honour, his eyes wide, staring at her as if she were both his salvation and saviour. Knowing he would stand there for the rest of time if she did not spur him into action, Brienne stepped into the scene, moving in front of him so she could put her hand on his shoulder. The second she did, he turned to look at where she touched him, just on his boiled leather armour, before he lifted his eyes to hers once more. She saw so many questions.

_Do you love me too?_

_Will you marry me?_

_Why must we say goodbye?_

Not having the means to put the great flood of emotion that possessed her into something approaching an explanation, she gave him a kind smile and the tilted her head in the direction of Honour.

"Come," she said gently, encouraging him to go.

All the hope she had previously seen in him was extinguished in a heartbeat as Ser Jaime looked away; to his horse, to his men, to the stars, at anything but her. Dusting her hand from her shoulder, Ser Jaime reached for Honour's reins and pulled himself up onto the horse, staring steadfastly forward at the back of the head of the man in front of him. Even as he continued not to look at her, Brienne gazed up at him reverently, feeling like a lowly mortal standing at the shrine of a god.

_It is not fair that I must be cursed to love him this deeply, _she thought.

After a few moments of holding his face in a stony grimace, the real Ser Jaime came out once more as he began to pat at his clothes in confusion. Suddenly, Brienne realised what he was looking for; Widow's Wail, which he had dropped when she had entered the courtyard. Bending down, Brienne picked it up for him and, seizing it by the hilt, went to give it to him. Their hands touched as he went to take it from her, and the contact of his skin on hers drew Brienne into looking at him once more. She wondered if his eyes were shining so bright because they were filled with tears. In the end, it was Brienne who broke the gaze because she knew if she didn't, he never would. The fracturing of that intimacy gave him the space to draw back and slip Widow's Wail into his scabbard before clearing his throat. In spite of herself, the sound made Brienne gaze up once more; there was no time left after all.

"I'll see you," Ser Jaime said hoarsely, before gently digging his heels into Honour and leading her away. At his direction, the other men followed, and the group of them made their way towards the open gates, out into the world and the great adventure beyond which awaited them. Although it was not her place to do so, Brienne only had one ardent wish as she watched him go.

_Look back at me, Jaime, _she thought. _Just one last time._

He did.

That final look, that final glance, that final heated _stare _was not enough for Brienne in the end. Once he had disappeared beyond the gates, Brienne dashed back into the castle and ran up the nearest set of stairs which she knew led to the tower that overlooked the walls. Running as quickly as she could, Brienne almost tripped as she skidded into the deserted space that was the highest point in the castle. She could easily imagine the view she would have of the surrounding area - and of him - once she had opened the shutters so, not caring that she looked desperate, Brienne tried to make quick work of the latch keeping them closed. However, after several moments of fumbling, she lost her patience and, reaching for a nearby poker, bashed the shutters open until both of them had been blown off their hinges.

The biting wind swirled into the small space the second the shutters were open, but Brienne barely cared, because she could see him. The sun was just beginning to rise over the horizon, illuminating Ser Jaime and his companions in the distance. Although they were little more than distant black smudges, Brienne thought she could tell which one was him; Ser Jaime sat that much straighter, he had a prouder bearing, and could never be confused with lesser men.

_Be safe, my love, _Brienne thought, even though she knew he was undertaking a dangerous journey and could never be exclusively hers. _Be safe, and I hope we see each other again one day._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks once again! If you would like to make a suggestion for a scene I could do, please comment below. I have a rough story planned out now, so I will see where I can fit everything!


	4. William & Jocelyn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne receives a letter...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Thanks for coming back!
> 
> The dialogue from this scene is taken from a heavily reduced version of the letter writing scene in "A Knight's Tale" (2001). It was just so perfect I had to use it.
> 
> If you enjoy this story, please think about leaving a comment or kudos. I love them!

Logically, Brienne knew there was little need for Ser Jaime ever to return to Winterfell; the threat of the Others had retreated, spring had arrived, and flowers were returning to the godswood. Furthermore, he had his duties down at Casterly Rock. With the Kingsguard disbanded, he was the heir to Tywin Lannister and the natural figure around who the surviving people of the Westerlands could rally. He needed to go home. He needed to do his duty.

All the same, she still missed him.

Brienne missed him when she rose in the morning and longed to speak to someone of something flippant; she missed him when she was sparring, because there was no one who she enjoyed fighting with as well as him; she missed him when she stood outside Lady Sansa's solar, guarding her mistress, because she wanted someone who could understand the long hours; and she missed him most of all in the middle of the night when she dreamed of a pair of strong arms around her. When alone in her chamber, Brienne took to talking to him hoping that, wherever he was, he was thinking of her too. She spoke to him about Lady Sansa and how she was maturing majestically into her role as Lady of Winterfell, and about Pod's endeavours at becoming a knight. In Ser Jaime's absence, Brienne found she was brave enough to tell him all the things it would have been dishonourable to say to his face; how much she loved him, how the sun rose and set with him, and how, just like the dead knight in the tale he had told her in the godswood, that her heart was filled with such longing for him that she was sure it could beat back the shadowy encroachment of death.

It took a month of her talking to him, missing him, and loving him, for Brienne to realise that Ser Jaime really was gone and never coming back. The day it hit her, she wept like a girl. By seeing his echo around Winterfell she was just prolonging her pain.

_He will go to Casterly Rock and fulfil his duty by marrying a suitable young maiden, _she told herself, _just like you ordered him to, because that's what you want for him. That's what Ser Jaime deserves, not an ugly wench like you._

After that terrible realisation, Brienne did her best to shut her beloved knight away to the darkest corners of her mind where she would not think of him or see him. For a few days, her attempt just about worked, until Pod appeared as she was sparring with the squires in the courtyard to tell her that a raven had arrived for her from Riverrun.

_Riverrun, _she thought sadly. _That's probably where he is now, but I daren't dream the letter would be from him..._

On approaching Lady Sansa's solar, Brienne had to steel herself. It was not that she felt the need to hide her true face from her young mistress, but that she feared if she truly was confronted with a letter from Ser Jaime, Brienne wanted to be best prepared not to fall into the role of a weeping maiden from a song, rather than the stoic young woman she was. However, on entering the room, Brienne discovered Lady Sansa had other ideas. The second she stepped across the threshold and marched into the room, Sansa held out the small scroll of parchment to her with a knowing look in her eye. Even from the short distance away at which Brienne stood, there was no mistaking that clumsy left-handed scrawl that could only belong to one man.

As Brienne stared at it, blinking nervously, Lady Sansa remained silent. However, there was no mistaking what she was trying to say with her eyes: _read it, Lady Brienne. It's for you. It's from your love._

Without thinking about it, Brienne began to shake her head, unsure of the reason why. Was it because she truly did not believe herself Ser Jaime's love? Or was it that she was terrified of the contents that tiny scroll would contain? When Brienne made no move to take the note from her mistress, Lady Sansa rolled her eyes and undid it herself, preparing to read it aloud as if it were a perfunctory charter about forest rights, or a capitulary about taxes. However, the instant Brienne's mistress took on her beloved's voice, Lady Sansa evidently realised it could not be delivered in such a way, as the letter was full of all the sweetness of spring.

"My dearest Brienne," began Lady Sansa, keeping her eyes fixed resolutely on Brienne's unchanging expression. "It is strange to think I haven't seen you since a month. I have seen the new moon, but not you. I have seen sunsets and sunrises but nothing of your beautiful eyes. The pieces of my broken heart are so small that they can be passed through the eye of a needle."

Having been unaware of how truly poetic Ser Jaime could be, Brienne nearly choked as she made to speak. "He writes as though I had died."

Lady Sansa gave her a sad smile. "Yes, Brienne. He dies as well, I think."

_Dies for the loss of me, _thought Brienne. It was almost too unbelievable to be true.

At Brienne's agog staring, Lady Sansa continued, adopting Ser Jaime's voice once more. "I miss you like the sun misses the flower in the depths of winter. Instead of beauty to direct its light to, the heart hardens like the frozen world your absence has banished me to. I will soon be at Casterly Rock, but I will find it empty and in the midst of winter because you are not there."

_He makes me a maiden from a story, _she thought distantly, almost unable to believe it.

It was only when Lady Sansa gave her sworn sword a pointed smile and stopped speaking that Brienne realised she would do anything to hear the ending. "And how does he finish it?"

"With hope. Love always ends with hope," smiled Sansa, suddenly the little girl she had been long ago in her childhood. However, the moment was brief as, at Brienne prompting gaze, Lady Sansa once again became a vessel for Ser Jaime's words: "Hope guides me, it is what gets me through the day and especially through the night; the hope that after you are gone from my sight that it will not be the last time I look upon you. With all the love that I possess, I remain yours. The knight of your heart, Jaime."

After the letter trailed into silence, Lady Sansa did not take up her own voice again but just waited expectantly for Brienne to say something, the letter still held delicately in her hand. Feeling her cheeks flushing, Brienne knew she wanted nothing more than to retreat to her own room and read it - one hundred times, a thousand times, a million times - until she knew the words so well that when she died and her heart was cut out for embalming, they would find them inscribed there.

When Brienne finally found the courage to look directly at her lady, she found Sansa was almost smiling at her teasingly. Not able to abide the ignominy, Brienne strode forward, snatched the letter from her hand and ran away, not wanting to be judged a moment longer for the aching longing she felt in her heart.

_He dies for me, _she thought as she dashed from the room, amazed. _As I die for him._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks once again for reading!
> 
> Now, I've hit a bit of a wall as to the dialogue for the next couple of chapters. I almost need a conversation between Sansa and Brienne where they talk about Jaime, or even where Brienne writes a letter in return, but I don't have many ideas. If you do, please put them in a comment!
> 
> I hope you come back for the next chapter.


	5. Frederick & Anne

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne decides what to do about Jaime's letter...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, thanks for coming back!
> 
> I now have the entire story mapped out with dialogue, so thanks so much for all your suggestions! I have included them where I could!
> 
> This time, there is no dialogue, but the letter is adapted from the 2007 version of Jane Austen's "Persuasion". It is the letter that Captain Wentworth sends to Anne towards the end.

With his letter in hand, Brienne ran as fast as she could to her own chamber, desperate to read its contents again and again. Ser Jaime was half a world away yet had taken the time to sit down, pick up a pen with his shaky left hand, and write her a letter that read as if it had been written by a knight to his lady in a song.

_He's made me his lady, _she thought distantly. _With a stroke of a pen, Jaime has made me his lady in a way that I could never have dreamt of. I never believed someone could see such poetry in me; perhaps I thought he could desire me as a woman, but never as a lady._

_Yet he has proved me wrong._

Brienne had no idea how many times she read the letter, pausing the brush her fingers over the most ardent passage he had written, almost trying to reach out and take the hand that had committed them to paper for her. Ser Jaime spoke of sunrises and sunsets, the new moon, and flowers, as well as the coldness into which she had flung him due to her absence. She was by no means as articulate as him yet, nevertheless, found herself scrabbling around on her writing desk in order to compose her reply.

_Jaime,_

_I can bear this no longer. You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope. Unjust I may have been, weak and fearful most certainly, but never inconstant. I offer myself to you with a heart even more your own than when I almost broke it in bidding you farewell. I have loved none but you; for you alone whose eyes I long for, for you alone I think and plan. Have you not seen this? I can hardly write. I must go uncertain of my fate; a sentence, a word would be enough, only tell me not that I am too late, that such precious feelings have not gone forever._

_Brienne_

Rolling the message into a scroll, Brienne then dashed from her room and made her way to the place the ravens were kept. With the help of the Maester Wolkan, Brienne selected a raven that would take her message to Casterly Rock. She did not know how long it had taken Jaime's message to reach her, but she thought it likely that he was no longer at Riverrun, so decided to send her letter to his final destination. Even if it beat him there, at least it would be waiting for him when he arrived at his ancestral home.

_Maybe it will make him happy, _she thought.

Watching the raven flutter into the sky, Brienne hoped and prayed that her missive would reach Jaime when he was well and safe, and it would soothe him rather than make doing his duty harder. For all she loved him, Brienne would not have him dash back to Winterfell to claim her, not when he needed to be in the Westerlands to help reorganise a land devastated by an apocalyptic war. Yet, maybe, it would be possible for them to exchange letters in the meantime, until they could be reunited once more.

_Jaime, Jaime, Jaime..._

That night, it was the thought of him that consoled her as she fell asleep to the sound of an oncoming spring storm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much! If you liked it, please leave comments and kudos!


	6. Jim & Pam

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne waits for a response from Jaime...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone who is enjoying, commenting, and kudos-ing on this story! I love to hear from you, so please keep it coming.
> 
> This bit of dialogue is taken from The US Office, particularly from the Episode 11 of Season 2, "Booze Cruise". In it, Jim discusses his feelings for Pam, who is marrying someone else, with his boss Michael. Thank you so much to effulgent_girl for suggesting it!
> 
> I hope you enjoy :)

To Brienne, there was only two possible consequences from the letter she had sent to Ser Jaime. The first was that he would instantly write back, pouring his heart out in his messy scrawl, promising that he would return as soon as his duties at Casterly Rock were complete and make her his wife. The second - which Brienne found in equal measures exciting and terrifying - was that he would come galloping back to Winterfell on his horse, damn his duties and damn his honour. Damn anything but her.

In the early days, she spent so long playing and re-playing these fantasies in her head that Brienne was surprised when they did not materialise in the coming weeks. There was no hurried letter of reply arriving in the rookery, and no golden-haired knight banging down the doors of Winterfell demanding to see his lady. As the weeks turned into months, Brienne started to get worried; was he well? Had the letter reached him? Was he hurt?

Due to his silence, Brienne took to reading and re-reading his letter in the quiet of her chamber, trying to understand how Ser Jaime could write her this and then make no attempt to respond to her reply. Even though his words were impassioned, filled with poetry, longing, and love, to Brienne, the fact he had now banished _her _to a frigid winter was more telling than his stark black letter on a small piece of parchment. In her more hopeful moments, she concluded that perhaps the letter had got lost, and that Ser Jaime was now in the same predicament as her, waiting and waiting for a confirmation of feelings that would never arrive. Over the next few months, Brienne sat down at her writing desk and attempted to write a second letter several times, but the moment she picked up her quill old fears overcame her. What if Ser Jaime had received the letter, but during the time that had passed his feelings had changed, and by exposing her own heart once more she was only opening herself to more ridicule and embarrassment?

Consequently, one month became two, two became three, and then before she knew it, a whole year had passed without a single word from her beloved.

Most days, Brienne was able to lock away the terrible sadness that sat at the centre of her soul, but during the darkness of the night she would find herself weeping like a maiden from a song, pining for her love. In an effort to keep herself sane, she threw herself into her work; serving Lady Sansa to the best of her abilities, making sure Podrick was shaping up to be the best knight he could, and training the squires in the courtyard so Lord Rickon could have his own personal guard. Such routine allowed Brienne to fall back on familiar comforts in her darkest moments, and it allowed her the space to at least function semi-normally.

That approach worked for her until Lady Sansa's nameday, when Winterfell became abuzz with news recently arrived by raven: Jaime Lannister, Lord of Casterly Rock, Lord Paramount of the Westerlands, and Warden of the West, was betrothed to a noble lady of the Reach, a sweet girl of seventeen by the name of Lady Talla Tarly of Horn Hill. As the announcement was rung out with clarion and trumpet at Lady Sansa's nameday feast, the party became even more raucous than it had been. The drinking and dancing increased apace, and Brienne had never felt more separated from her fellow men. In spite of the noise and the cheer from her comrades and friends, she could barely hear anything, as at that news she retreated behind her walls to protect her heart.

_It is only right, _she thought. _It was what I wanted for him; for Ser Jaime to marry a beautiful young lady straight from the pages of a story. And Lady Talla is a good choice; with one brother a maester and another brother dead, she is her father's heir. It makes sense from the perspective of the future of the Lannister name._

_Even if it breaks my heart._

Unable to sit at the high table pretending to be merry a moment longer, Brienne took her cup of wine and left the Great Hall, striding across the courtyard to the only place in Winterfell that would allow her to feel close to Ser Jaime, to rationally think through why he had done it. Once she was amongst the wide-eyed trees and far enough away from the celebrations to only hear a distant noise, Brienne downed her drink and threw her cup to the floor, unable to prevent the tears from falling.

_It has been a year; did I expect anything else? I could not ask him to live a frozen, unlived life, especially if he does not love me._

_Perhaps Lady Talla can make him happy, and that's all I could ever ask for._

Brienne was so lost to her thoughts and her sadness that she nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard someone else enter the godswood. Wiping her tears away as quickly as she could Brienne turned around to see who it was. To her immense surprise, it was Lady Sansa. Her young mistress had spent most of her evening drinking and dancing; consequently, her pretty pale cheeks were flushed red and her eyes were bright.

Not wanting Lady Sansa to pry too deeply into her heart, Brienne decided to take control and choose the conversation topic. "What a night, my lady," she said, trying to sound jovial, referring to Lady Sansa's nameday feast.

Noting Brienne's tone, her mistress smiled at her knowingly. "Yes, especially since we have heard Ser Jaime is betrothed."

Brienne's plan having failed, she looked down at her feet, still desperately trying to change the subject. As picking something else to talk about had failed, Brienne attempted the head on approach, deciding to make it clear that she did not want to talk about Ser Jaime. "You know," she began, her voice quiet, "to tell the truth, I used to have feelings for Ser Jaime, so..."

At Brienne's declaration, Lady Sansa let out a burst of laughter - hearty and full of wine - that made Brienne raise her eyebrows. Was it really so hysterical that she should have ever hoped that Ser Jaime would ever return her love? However, when Lady Sansa next spoke, it seemed she was not mocking her sworn sword, but instead amused at her short-sightedness. "Really? You're japing with me," said Lady Sansa sarcastically, rolling her eyes. "You and Ser Jaime? I would never have put you two together. You really hid it well! Gods! I usually have a sense for things like that!"

Not liking to be ribbed, Brienne went for a stiff response. "Yes, my lady."

Her evident discomfort at the conversation topic led Lady Sansa to step towards her, one eyebrow raised. "Well... Ser Jaime is handsome."

It was such a major underselling of Ser Jaime Lannister's good virtues that honour compelled Brienne to defend him. "Yes, my lady, but that is not all. He is really funny, and he's warm. And he's just... well, anyway..."

As Brienne's words petered off into silence, the amusement in Lady Sansa's eyes disappeared and was replaced by concern. "Well, if you like him so much, you shouldn't give up."

"He is betrothed," retorted Brienne, trying not to scoff.

"Betrothed isn't married," said Lady Sansa sagely, as if she were the Ghost of High Heart delivering a prophecy. Something about her mistress' sure gaze made Brienne look deep inside her own heart.

_Huh, _she thought. _Perhaps Lady Sansa is speaking the truth. Perhaps all isn't over._

_Perhaps this is the part of the story where the knight and his lady are tested, and all will come out right._

Evidently sensing a change in Brienne's expression, Lady Sansa stepped forward and reached up to put a comforting hand on her sworn sword's shoulder. As the evening light caught in the Lady Sansa's eyes, she uttered something that Brienne knew deep down, but had not thought to apply to this tussle in her heart over Ser Jaime.

"Never, ever, ever give up."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks very much for reading! As ever, I love to hear from you in the form of comments and kudos, so please consider leaving them <3


	7. Fitzwilliam & Elizabeth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne makes plans for her future...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for coming back!
> 
> Now, Annie_Archer recommended the final scene from the 2005 Pride and Prejudice film. However, I could not quite fit that in with all the other requests. So, instead, here is Darcy and Elizabeth accidentally meeting at Pemberley in the 1995 TV Series. I hope you enjoy.

It was one thing for Brienne to believe there was hope during a feast when she was half-drunk on wine and Lady Sansa had valiantly stated that she should never give up, quite another to believe it when she woke up the following morning, her head groggy and her heart sore. More than anything, Brienne wished she had more experience with how women dealt with their men so she might know what was best to do. Should she write Ser Jaime another letter asking why he had suddenly changed his mind? Should she march down to Casterly Rock and steal him away at the point of a sword like a wildling might do? Or should she go back to her father, back to Tarth, and put the whole sorry episode behind her?

She mulled on it a few days, weighing up each option as she did her duties, and she had almost settled on the charging down to Casterly Rock and seizing him when another raven arrived. Apparently, much of the Westerlands was in dire straits after the Long Night, and Lord Jaime Lannister and his future wife Lady Talla Tarly wished to come to Winterfell to discuss the possibility of him buying timber, furs, and iron from the North in bulk to speed up the rebuilding process. Lady Sansa replied that she looked forward to seeing him in a moon's turn before Brienne had time to think through what that actually meant.

_He's coming back, _thought Brienne hopefully. _He's coming back to Winterfell... I will get to see him again..._

_Perhaps we could talk, perhaps we could work out why he never replied to my letter, why he..._

And then she remembered: he was betrothed and Lady Talla was coming with him. Deep down, Brienne knew that this was probably an effort to rub his betrothed status in her face - Ser Jaime could be petty like that - and she did not quite know if she could bear the ignominy. It was the thought of Lady Talla Tarly made her decision so much easier; Brienne was going to return to her father and Tarth and try to forget that Ser Jaime Lannister had ever happened and spend the the rest of her life dreaming of his kisses.

* * *

It took several weeks to persuade Lady Sansa to let Brienne out of her vows as a sworn sword and return home. At first, Sansa's objects were all intensely personal -_I need you at Winterfell, your place is here _\- but when Brienne had calmly responded that it was time for her to go and look for her own life, Lady Sansa had changed tack.

_But Ser Jaime is coming, surely you want to see him?_

_He will be so sad if he arrives and you are not here._

_Why don't you delay your travel, at least until he arrives?_

Yet Brienne wanted to do no such thing. The longer she stayed, the more entangled she would become with the desperate hope that she had the love of a man who was going to marry someone else. That would not do. She would not debase herself in that way; she had more self-respect than that. So, once she had secured her release from Lady Sansa, Brienne extracted a promise from Pod to valiantly protect the Lady of Winterfell in her stead, and then hired three sellswords to act as her guard down to Tarth. Although she knew she could manage herself, the time Brienne had spent looking for Lady Sansa in the Riverlands had taught her that the woods were a dangerous place for a lady who was half a knight, especially if she did not have companions.

When ravens arrived announcing that Ser Jaime and Lady Talla were drawing near, Brienne sped up her plans for departure, meaning she would be well away before the knight and his lady even set foot in Winter Town. It was difficult to say goodbye to Lady Sansa and Pod - her young squire even cried - but Brienne promised to write as often as she could, and that was enough to quiet the boy. The Lady of Winterfell and the Squire were therefore the only two people to wave goodbye to Brienne and her men as she left the castle that she had called her home for the entirety of the Long Night. The departure made her immensely sad, not just because of the people she was saying goodbye to, but also because of the magic-hewn castle itself. Here, Brienne had been both a woman and a knight. Elsewhere, she would have to choose.

The first day's journey was hard; Brienne and her companions had hoped to make it to Cerwyn before nightfall, but the weather was difficult and they were eventually forced to pull into a non-descript little inn called _The Bear and the Maiden Fair. _When Brienne went to talk to the innkeep, she discovered that there were few rooms left, as a large party from the south had sent an errand boy ahead to reserve chambers for the night. It meant that while Brienne was afforded the last room in the inn due to her status as a lady, her men had to sleep outside in the stable with the horses. It was a less than adequate settlement, and it instantly put an air of distrust between herself and the three sellswords.

Things did not improve over dinner. A woman better at knowing how to bend men to her will than Brienne of Tarth would have done something to win the three sellswords over as they sat huddled around the fire, each with a bowl of broth and a flagon of beer. The men were all discussing a dizzying variety of topics, but Brienne felt she could not keep up, so kept her eyes on her food and said nothing.

_I will retire soon, _she thought. _If the weather is as bad as it was today tomorrow, we will have to rise early if we want to reach Cerwyn._

On finishing eating, Brienne got to her feet and made to say goodbye to her companions. However, she found the words never left her lips as, at that moment, the door of the inn burst open and the party from the south entered.

And, of course, because the gods were cruel capricious creatures, the party from the south was inevitably headed by Ser Jaime Lannister and his new bride, who was clinging to his arm to take shelter from the cold.

Brienne could not have stopped herself even if she wanted to. "Ser Jaime?"

She had clearly spoken louder than she had intended to as, at her words, the whole inn hushed to silence. Ser Jaime took a few moments to locate the person who was calling his name but, when he did his eyes went wide and he opened and closed his mouth in shock. However, he quickly got himself in order and once he was back to his senses, Ser Jaime shucked the pretty, plump Lady Talla, with her long dark hair and big eyes, from his arm to stride across the room towards Brienne.

"Lady Brienne?" he gawked, looking at her as if he had seen a ghost.

As all the eyes in the inn were upon her, Brienne desperately tried to find something to say to cover her embarrassment at having to come upon her beloved quite unexpectedly. "I did not expect to see you, ser," she said, her cheeks going a blotching red. "We understood that you and your betrothed were still some days away... I should never have presumed..."

By _we _she meant the people at Winterfell, but Ser Jaime did not pick up on that point and just continued to stare at her, his green eyes holding the same unchanging beauty they had a year earlier. Clearing his throat, he declared, "we returned a day earlier than anticipated."

At his use of the word _we, _Ser Jaime summoned his betrothed to him once more. On closer inspection, Brienne could see a lot of her brother Sam in Lady Talla as she was plump, ruddy-faced and had a kind of skittish nervousness to her. Although she was sure the young woman was from a good family and in possession of childbearing hips, she was still not what Brienne had imagined for Ser Jaime. In her mind, the maid who would win his heart was ethereally beautiful, with waves of golden hair and haunting green eyes.

It hit Brienne as hard as a punch when she recognised that she had been picturing Cersei.

Spooked by her sudden realisation, Brienne struggled to find any words. Seemingly, Lady Talla was having the same problem as she stared up at Ser Jaime, while shooting confused glances at Brienne. It meant that all the talking was to be left to the errant knight.

In the end, he went for: "excuse me, but is Pod in good health?"

_So this is how we are to play it in public, _thought Brienne sadly. _As if we barely know each other and as if we never meant anything to one another._

"Yes, he is very well, thank you, ser," she said, keeping her voice stiff and informal.

At her tone, his cheeks reddened. "My pleasure... and how long have you been in the Wolfswood?"

"Only a day, ser," she replied truthfully, shooting a quick look at her silent companions.

"And where are you staying?"

That seemed a very silly question. "At the inn we're standing in."

"Oh yes, of course," he said distantly, his cheeks turning from pink to red. His dramatic transformation of expression made Brienne wonder if he was feeling as nervous as she did. Ser Jaime's next statement seemed to confirm her suspicion. "Well... I've just arrived myself..."

"Yes," she nodded. "I saw."

That led to another pregnant silence so profound that it caused Lady Talla to furrow her brow. At his betrothed's silent confusion, Jaime tried again. "And Pod is in good health? Lady Sansa?"

As he had already asked her about Pod, Brienne just felt very lost. "Yes, they are both in excellent health, ser."

Jaime nodded at her response, slow and sure, not taking his green eyes from Brienne's face. Lady Talla seemed to notice that as she gave his arm a short, sharp tug and gestured in the direction of the innkeep. Brienne knew in an instant there was no longer any excuse for them to be talking. "Excuse me," said Ser Jaime, giving her a stiff bow before grasping Lady Talla's arm tighter and heading towards the worried looking innkeep. The loss of his the feel of his eyes on her made Brienne's breath hitch, and she quickly came to the conclusion that it would break her heart to sit back down next to the hearth with her men and watch as Ser Jaime played at domesticity with Lady Talla.

So, without another word, she turned on her heel and dashed up to the privacy of her own room, determined that she and her men would be gone at first light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks once again for reading. As ever, I love to hear from you in the form of comments and kudos. Each one makes my writing better <3


	8. Noah & Allie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne tries to sleep during her night at the inn...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading this chapter. The dialogue in this one is taken from the 2004 film "The Notebook" from a certain scene which includes swans, boats, and a hell of a lot of rain.
> 
> And... oh yeah... I upped the rating a little.
> 
> I hope you enjoy.

For all that Brienne was exhausted given her hard day's riding, that night she could not sleep a wink. All she could think of was Ser Jaime's shocked face, illuminated by the fire. It was some cruel fate that of all the inns in the North, he had decided to bring Lady Talla _here _while Brienne of Tarth was passing through in the other direction. Some people said the trees could see the past, present, and future; as Brienne listened to the wind whistling through the leaves, she wondered what they saw in store for her and Jaime.

_Nothing, _she told herself bluntly. _They see nothing for you. Ser Jaime is going to Winterfell with his betrothed to meet with Lady Sansa. You are going to Tarth to fulfil your role as the future Evenstar. You will most probably never see him again._

It was that thought above all others that stopped her sleeping. In the year since he had departed for Casterly Rock, Brienne had consoled herself with the idea that the longer they were apart, the sooner her feelings for Ser Jaime would ebb away, as easily and as silently as a departing tide. However, in seeing him again, Brienne knew that could never be true, never _would _be true, and the realisation that she might be trapped with these thorny feelings forever just made her feel hot, angry, and enraged that he still had such a hold on her.

Knowing she would never be able to sleep while her mind ran wild, Brienne put on some clothes, picked up Oathkeeper and made her way out of the inn. Outside, the world was bathed in a silvery glow thanks to the watching moon, and as she passed the stable, she heard her three sellswords snoozing. Given their state, she knew she should be wary of venturing into the woods alone, but the light made it easier for Brienne to go a little further into the trees than she would on a darker night.

_I'm not afraid, _she told herself. _I'm not afraid of anything._

_Except, perhaps... of him._

Once she found a suitable spot, Brienne lifted Oathkeeper and got into a fighting stance, determined to drill herself until the familiar mechanics of swinging her sword would stop her heart hammering and settle her breathing.

_Thrust. Lunge. Parry. Swing._

_Do not think of him._

Moving with Oathkeeper was like dancing; indeed, it was the only type of dancing that Brienne had ever been permitted to do. Apart from one solitary turn around the room with Renly Baratheon, no one had ever took Brienne of Tarth's hand at a ball. The only partners she had ever had were men on the other end of a blade, searching for a patch of skin to cut, stab, and tear, rather than kiss, caress, or hold...

Lost to a distant fantasy, Brienne was taken by suprise when she span around and heard a metallic ringing sound as Oathkeeper clashed against another sword. Her blood singing, Brienne made to protect herself, but then realised that Oathkeeper had not just struck an enemy, but Widow's Wail, and - as expected, as was natural - Jaime Lannister was holding her sword's own twin, his expression as sharp and dangerous as his blade. No words passed between them, as Brienne found she and Ser Jaime had such an accord they rarely needed to communicate with words, and just a twitch of his eyebrow told her what he wanted.

He wanted to fight, and she wanted to give it to him.

In a moment, the air was alive with the music of swords kissing. Ser Jaime never let her have it easy, and parried her blow for blow, a smile stretching across his face as they fought. They had fought side by side in the War for the Dawn and had become so attuned to each other that she could sense when the other would move; when he lunged, she would withdraw, when she slashed at him, he would parry.

She did not know how long it went on for, but for the first time in a year Brienne truly felt free of the weight of her feelings for Ser Jaime, as she could take it all out on him now he was here in front of her, delighting in seeing his smug self-satisfied face contorted with the effort of battle. The more they danced, the more Brienne thought she could take him; she was stronger, he was less confident with his left hand, he was on the backfoot...

But he was quicker. Momentarily distracted by the moonlight in his eyes, Brienne held herself a little too open for a glancing second. Ser Jaime did not waste his chance; lifting his sword up, he brought it straight down on Oathkeeper, while she was adopting a weak stance. Unable to catch herself, Brienne let go of her sword and it went tumbling to the floor, taking all chance of victory with it. Not waiting, Jaime pressed his advantage and lodged Widow's Wail just under her chin, leaving Brienne to conclude she was well and truly beaten. Having no other choice, she held her hands up in surrender. Ser Jaime did not move, however, but just kept his blade at her throat and stared at her with those green eyes that danced with wildfire.

"Why didn't you write to me?" he asked, his voice a little more than a growl.

Brienne had not been expecting that, so went to say something. However, she found no words came out and it seemed to make him angrier.

"Why?" he barked. "It wasn't over for me. I waited for you for a whole year. I thought you needed time, and now it is too late."

Something must have changed in Brienne's expression for, at that moment, Ser Jaime dropped his sword to his side. No longer treating her as a fellow knight, he stared at her as if she were a lady. His gaze burned so brightly that Brienne found it a struggle to speak.

_What? _she thought blankly. _I poured my heart out to you in my letter. Did it never reach you, my love?_

Suddenly, an image of that night came back to her, and the sky was filled with a summer storm. Steeling herself, Brienne spoke slowly as she pieced the puzzle together. "I wrote to you," she confessed. "I wrote in response to your letter, but you never wrote back."

At her admission, Ser Jaime blinked, as if clearing the mist of confusion that blinded him from his eyes. "You wrote to me?"

"Yes," replied Brienne, her voice choked. "It wasn't over."

Her words seemed to change the feeling in the air as, quite suddenly, Widow's Wail went clattering to the floor as Ser Jaime's face was overcome with emotion.

"It still isn't over," he roared, charging towards her with all the force of an angry lion and pushing her firmly back against the tree, kissing her as if he needed her to breathe, as if he was dying of thirst and she was a goblet of mountain water. It was quite unlike their first kiss in the godswood, which had been gentle and reverent. This one was hard, fast, and passionate, with Jaime plundering the inside of her mouth with his tongue and exploring her body with his hand. His wild, uncontained strength made Brienne feel so intensely weak, so maidenly that she wanted to sing, but by nature she was a fighter, so she pushed back against him, exacting out her frustrations by parrying his kisses, and running her fingers through his perfect curls.

She would have been happy to stay like that forever but, quite suddenly, there was a scream. Pushing Jaime off her, Brienne looked in the direction it had come from and, to her horror, realised her sellswords in the stable were in danger. Being the brave fool she was, Brienne lunged for Oathkeeper and went charging off after the sound, moving as fast as she could. As she expected, Brienne could hear Jaime calling after her - _wench, wench, be careful! _\- but because of the fact his voice never got quieter, she knew that he was following her into whatever this new hell was.

And it was indeed a hell.

A group of bandits, evidently hearing the snores of the sellswords, had decided to try their luck. One of Brienne's guards at least must have woken up in time, as while two of her men were lying dead on the floor dead, a third was fighting valiantly for his life. Knowing she was honour-bound to save him, Brienne leapt into the melee straight away, Oathkeeper in hand.

If Ser Jaime thought her foolish, he did not express it, because he jumped in straight after her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked that! If you did, please leave a comment or kudos. They keep me young <3


	9. Spike & Buffy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of the fight at the inn...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! I hope you like this one. This scene is from "Touched" the Season 7 Episode 20 of "Buffy the Vampire Slayer". It was, once again, suggested by effulgent_girl. I hope you like it!

The fight was short but bloody. There were far too many outlaws for Jaime and Brienne to seriously mount a defence, especially after Lady Brienne's final sellsword was cut down in a haze of blood and violence. Letting out a blood-curdling scream, Brienne tried to leap to his aid, but there were too many opponents, too many men set on killing her and, quite irritatingly, it was a particularly brutish oaf who managed to crack his cudgel into the back of her head that finally brought her down.

It was all Jaime could do to keep the bandits off her until men from inside the inn came hurtling into the stable, scaring away the last of the criminals with pikes and axes. In spite of their victory, Jaime barely heard or saw anything though, because he was too busy screaming; _she's hurt, she's hurt, please... somebody help!_

With the aid of a few of her rescuers, Jaime carried Lady Brienne back into the inn and laid her down on one of the benches in by the hearth. He was too busy panicking to know where the innkeep summoned a tired looking herbalist from, but he was immensely thankful all the same. Looking at the back of Lady Brienne's head, the old woman declared it was only a glancing blow, and it would be possible to rouse her and then treat the pain with a particular concoction of herbs that the innkeep probably had access to. Jaime nearly kissed her when the old woman told him that Lady Brienne would be back to her full health in a few days.

_Thank the gods, _thought Jaime. _I can't lose my heart._

Once the diagnosis was complete, Jaime sought the help of the innkeep's husband to help carry Lady Brienne back up to her chamber, where they laid her back on her bed, making her look every inch the sleeping maiden from a song. Wanting to be Lady Brienne's sole carer, Jaime quickly dismissed the man and then set about making sure the fire was ablaze, knowing how cold it could be in the North. A few minutes later, the old woman appeared and gave him instructions as to when Brienne should drink her tincture - _three sips just as she wakes up._ Once he had his orders, however, Jaime dismissed her too and went back to just gazing at Lady Brienne's sleeping face.

_My wench, _he thought. _My impossible, stupidly brave, stubborn wench._

_My love._

Overjoyed that the last year had been a story of miscommunication and lost ravens, Jaime could not help but stare at her. In the silvery moonlight, her blonde hair seemed like a halo as it laid out around her, glorious and glowing. Jaime could scarcely fathom the Lady Brienne's particular beauty - his miracle - with her crooked nose, big mouth, and scarred cheek. He only wished she would open her eyes; he loved them the most of all.

Then, quite suddenly, she did.

It took the Lady Brienne a few seconds to adjust to where she was, blinking and shifting nervously on the bed. Remembering the old woman's instructions, Jaime then went for the potion and made Lady Brienne take a small sip, not wanting her to be in pain. At his heated touch, Lady Brienne came to her senses once more. As he put the cup down, she looked up at him, her blue eyes wide with horror as she remembered what had happened in the stable; the fight with the outlaws, the three dead sellswords, and her own inability to save them. Quite suddenly, the reality of the situation dawned on her, and tears welled in beautiful eyes. Unable to bear it, Jaime went and sat on the bed, taking her hand in his. He could not stand to watch her cry.

"There are always casualties in war," he said, squeezing her fingers, trying to get her to see the bigger picture.

Brienne did not seem in the mood for such platitudes however, as pulled her hand away from him and attempted to wipe away her tears. "_Casualties_, it just sounds so casual," she said, unable to stop the river flowing from her eyes. "These are men that I got _killed. _I cut myself off from them... all of them. I barely knew their names. I knew I was going to lose some of them, and I didn't..."

Contemplating her grief, Lady Brienne's expression changed from one of sadness to mulish anger. It wasn't pretty, but her countenance was so entirely beloved to Jaime that he felt his heart quicken, even as she continued to berate herself.

"You know what? I am still making excuses. I have always cut myself off. I have always felt that being Big Brienne made me different, but it is _my _fault I stayed that way. People always try to connect to me, and I... just slip away." Just then, Lady Brienne gazed directly at him with her heart-stopping blue eyes. "You should know."

In all the time that Jaime had known Lady Brienne, he never thought she had slipped away from him. When they were captured by the Bloody Mummers, it was Lady Brienne who had cleaned and held him without complaint, Lady Brienne who had been the first kind touch he had known in a whole year, perhaps in his whole life. And then in the bath at Harrenhal, he had bared his soul to her, and she had not flinched away; Brienne of Tarth was far too brave to recoil from the reality of what he was.

_Yet, perhaps..._

The reason for her rejection of him dawned on Jaime as brightly and suddenly as the morning sun. Jaime Lannister had spent the years he had known Brienne of Tarth ripping open his heart and showing it to her, but she had never revealed herself so entirely to him. He had thought that was because she was so honest and true, and therefore devoid of the complexities that he was burdened with, but now he saw his assumption was quite wrong.

While she had never flinched away from him, Brienne of Tarth had spent a lifetime flinching away from herself.

He would not let her do it to herself anymore. Reaching for her hand once more, Jaime tried to restore some of their intimacy they had shared in the woods, during the War for the Dawn, and along the aching journey from Harrenhal to King's Landing. "I seem to recall a certain amount of connecting," he said, speaking of the emotional as well as the physical bond between them.

"Please!" she scoffed, trying to withdraw from him again, so he just kept a valiant hold of her hand. At their continued touch, Brienne's eyes flickered with a fear that she attempted to justify away. "You just wanted me because I... I... I..."

"What?" he asked, genuinely curious to why she thought he wanted her.

Brienne did not look him in the eye. "Because I was unattainable."

That made him let out a bark of harsh laughter, even though he knew it was partly true. Brienne of Tarth always encased herself in armour; both the suit he had given her and a type of self-protective steel around her heart. Yes, he knew she was unattainable, but that was entirely due to the walls she built around her heart, the beating softness which he loved so well.

"You think that is all that was?" he asked incredulously.

Brienne glanced at him, before dropping her exquisite eyes to her hands once more. "Let's not go over the past," she said wearily, despite Jaime thinking that there was nothing more pressing to talk about right at that moment.

"Oh no, no," parried Jaime, his temper mounting. "Oh, let's hold on here. I have hummed along to your self-pity; I should have my turn."

Jaime thought those harsh words would make Lady Brienne retaliate, but instead she just looked tired, ever so tired; innocent, sweet and as self-sacrificing as a martyr. "Fine," she said emotionlessly. "The stage is yours. Cheer me up."

He shook his head derisively. "You are insufferable, my lady."

That elicited a tut from her lovely mouth. "Thank you," she said, verging on sarcasm. "That really helped."

After he had lost his hand, Lady Brienne had chastised him for his self-pity. He was not about to let her do the same now. "I am not trying to cheer you up," he admitted, without a shred of shame.

She furrowed her eyebrows at him. "What _are _you trying to say?"

"I do not know," he replied, giving her a roguish smile. "I will know when I am done saying it. Something irritated me and I just... _unattainable, _that is it."

Lady Brienne let out a little huff, her shoulders sagging. "Fine. I am attainable. May I please just go to sleep?"

Although her stubborn refusal to say what she really meant in regards to him was part of what he loved about her, Jaime refused to let her go to sleep without knowing what _he_ really, truly felt. Maybe he had gone about it the wrong way in the past; declaring his love with heartful poems, flower metaphors, and allegorical stories would never work with Brienne of Tarth, the woman who believed she had no place in a song. Perhaps he needed to tell her what he saw when he looked into her eyes.

Honestly.

"You listen to me," Jaime said firmly, taking hold of her hand once more. To his surprise, Lady Brienne did not pull away this time; perhaps it was the ardent look in his eyes. "I have been alive a bit longer than you, ten years or so. I have seen things you could not imagine and done things I would prefer you didn't. I don't exactly have a reputation for being a thinker; I follow my blood, which doesn't exactly rush in the direction of my brain." Jaime knew he only felt alive doing two things; fighting and fucking. He had done the first with Lady Brienne, he now felt they should try the other. "So I make a lot of mistakes, a lot of wrong bloody calls."

At that admission, Lady Brienne went to object, no doubt to tell him that he was a man with honour, and more than just the Kingslayer. However, Jaime shook his head, then lifted his stump to her chin so he could move her and gaze into those impossible blue eyes. "Thirty plus years," he mused, his voice hoarse, "and there is only one thing I have ever been sure of... you."

Once again Lady Brienne tried to turn away, so he lifted his hand in order to touch her face, to cradle her cheek against his skin. Perhaps in spite of herself, she leaned into his touch, closing her eyes. "Look at me," he begged, his voice a little more desperate than he had planned, and he was rewarded with those spectacular blue eyes. "I am not asking you for anything. When I say, _I love you, _it is not because I want you or because I cannot have you. It has nothing to do with me."

Suddenly, his fingers felt wet and he realised Lady Brienne was crying. It only made him shuffle closer. "I love what you are," he said honestly, "what you do, how you try. I have seen your kindness and your strength. I have seen the best and worst of you. And I understand with perfect clarity exactly what you are."

"And what am I?" she asked, her voice trembling with the strength of her emotions.

"You're a hell of a woman," Jaime smiled, his whole self lighting up as Lady Brienne stared at him, almost unable to comprehend what he was saying to her. Her wide-eyed innocence made confession so much easier. "You are the One, Brienne."

He had hoped that his admission would make her smile, but instead it just made her cry harder. "But who could believe I'm your One?"

"Who could believe I am this good looking and athletic, but we all have our crosses to bear," he joked, making her laugh. Her oversized giggle was intensely welcome given the events of the evening, and entirely broke the tension that had been building between them for over a year, ever since he had first kissed her in the godswood over a copy of _The Song of Joramun. _Turning her face ever so slightly, Lady Brienne kissed the palm of his hand, and gesture was so gentle that Jaime could not bear for her to worry anymore. "You get some rest now. I will check in before first light."

He went to move away from her, to return to his chamber that sat beside the Lady Talla's, but Lady Brienne stopped him by seizing hold of his wrist with her long, strong fingers. He could not resist her. "Jaime? Could you... stay here?"

"Of course," he answered, not even considering the greater narrative the two of them were woven into. Looking around the room, he spotted an uncomfortable old chair by the fire, and made an effort to go and sit in it. "That diabolical old torture device, the wooden chair. It'll do me fine."

Even so, Lady Brienne still did not relinquish her hold on him. "No, I mean... here," she said quietly, patting the empty space beside her on the bed. "Will you just hold me?"

It was as if she had just offered him the sun, moon, stars, and all the heavens. Without another word, Jaime crawled up onto the bed beside her and pulled her into his arms, loving the immense, strong warmth of her body as Lady Brienne laid her head on his shoulder and wrapped her arms around him in turn.

They did not sleep much that night. For a while, she wept. Then they just existed in an easy silence.

Just before the sun rose, they kissed and did not stop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you enjoyed that... please consider leaving comments and kudos!


	10. Georg & Maria

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime considers what to do next...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all, thanks so much for coming back! I am amazed that this story grew from a small kernel of an idea, but I am so glad you are enjoying it and thanks for inspiring me to make it more than a one-shot.
> 
> The dialogue for this chapter is taken from the 1965 film "The Sound of Music" which I am convinced everyone has at least seen once. In my opinion, Baroness Schraeder is the classiest character in the history of film, so I just had to get her in here.
> 
> I hope you enjoy :)

Jaime slipped out of Lady Brienne's chamber just after dawn; he did not want to taint her reputation any more than it already had been by the Lady Stoneheart affair. After making sure he was changed into new clothes in order to avoid suspicion, he went down to the hall to break his fast. To his surprise, he found Lady Talla and the rest of their party were already there, preparing for their last day of journeying to Winterfell. With a few short words, Jaime put ends to those plans instantly. When Lady Talla asked him why, Jaime told her the truth quite unashamedly; he would not go back to Winterfell without Lady Brienne and would stay at the inn as long as she needed him.

Lady Brienne spent most of that first day asleep, and Jaime tried to distract himself from his worry by making sure she had water, that her fire was well stoked, and that meals were brought up to her at regular intervals. At dinner, he even went up and sat with her for a while, and the two of them talked about everything sweet and innocent that was not the question that loomed over both their heads. After he tucked her into bed, Jaime then went to say goodnight to his betrothed, who gazed at him with suspicious eyes.

He did not have the words to begin explaining what was going on.

The next day, Lady Brienne got up, still a little woozy, and declared she was going to Tarth. Jaime nearly laughed his head off when he heard that ridiculous plan and told her under no circumstances was he going to let his brave, foolish wench go charging half way across the world alone and with possible concussion. He then informed her that she would be coming back to Winterfell with him and if she refused, he would tie a rope around her waist and drag her all the way there anyway, so she better agree.

_Just like old times, _he thought mischievously.

In the end, no such drastic measures were needed; Lady Brienne mounted a horse and joined his party, her head held high. After a few hours of watching her on the road, Jaime noticed she rarely engaged with anyone apart from Lady Talla and himself. Whereas Jaime would just be rude and make jokes about his concussed wench falling off her horse, Lady Talla kept asking Lady Brienne questions about herself.

_How long is it since you have been to Tarth?_

_Are you and Lady Sansa close?_

_How long have you known my betrothed?_

In spite of Lady Talla's relative friendliness, Lady Brienne gave her short clipped answers sometimes accompanied by a girlish blush. Jaime could barely take his eyes off his love as she squirmed; her embarrassment was a strangely beautiful sight, just like every single action of hers. While he greatly enjoyed watching her in torment, Jaime eventually decided to relieve Lady Brienne's agony by beginning to speak of the rebuilding that was required in the Westerlands, and complained he would now have to pimp himself out across Westeros trying to find the timber, iron, and stone needed to do the job properly. Lady Brienne listened in silence as he told her of his woes, like she was wont to do, but wore an expression that made him wonder whether she had a plan brewing.

When they arrived back at Winterfell, Lady Sansa was shocked and surprised to see Jaime helping Lady Brienne down from her horse before he did the same for Lady Talla, and even had to poke him to remind him of his duty. After fulfilling his expected task, Jaime then returned to the more pressing issue of Lady Brienne's concussion, and where Lady Brienne was going to be lodged, and how there was no fucking way that anyone should let her try to journey to Tarth on her own, because that was a stupid idea and she would just get herself hurt unnecessarily. As he soliloquised on the importance of her safety, Lady Brienne looked at him in silent fury, while Lady Talla just seemed sad.

_I am going to have to fix this, _he thought, _but how?_

That night, Lady Sansa had a welcome feast prepared for Jaime and his bride, with music, dancing, and minstrels. The feast was perhaps the most sumptuous that Jaime had ever had in the North - with honey-glazed boar and a delicious cherry pie for dessert, all washed down with barrels of Arbor Gold - yet Jaime barely noticed. As custom dictated, Jaime had to sit at the high table with Lady Sansa and his betrothed and pretended to be interested as the two women twittered on about dresses, silks, and needlework. Drifting away, Jaime found his eyes wandering to Lady Brienne, who was sitting at one of the low tables with Pod, whispering about something. Occasionally, Lady Brienne would meet his eye - blue dancing with green - and he would feel an immense warmth come over him.

_If only we hadn't wasted a year, _he mused, _with misunderstandings and lost letters._

After they had finished the food, Lady Sansa ordered some tables pushed back to make room for dancing, calling for harpists and singers to lighten the mood. Out of the corner of his eye, Jaime saw Lady Brienne flee from the room the second that was suggested, her face pale and wan. Momentarily, he worried whether she was feeling woozy again, but then the thought struck him that she might be terrified of dancing; it was a thing that ladies did after all. Needing to confirm what was wrong, Jaime slipped out from the feast, gratified that Lady Talla was being busily entertained by Lady Sansa with a conversation about cherry pie.

Lingering in the shadows, Jaime followed Lady Brienne as she exited the Great Hall. Rather unsurprisingly, she made her way to the armoury where she picked up a blunted tourney sword, and then returned to the courtyard, where she set about drilling her fighting stances, swinging her sword around with the same elegance and grace she had that night at the inn. Not yet wanting her to know he was watching, Jaime made his way up one of the battlements overlooking the courtyard, so he could gaze at her with only his thoughts for company.

Jaime thought Lady Brienne really was beautiful when fighting. There was an easiness and grace to her swordplay, in spite of her overwhelmingly powerful body. Physically honed, her movement with her sword showed she was a weapon in her own right, all lines, strength, and domination. Watching her, Jaime could feel himself stirring; some would undoubtedly think such a reaction strange, but he thought it no different from other men liking to watch their women dance. Lady Brienne's fighting was her dancing, and Jaime longed for nothing more than to do it with her.

Lost to entwined thoughts of dancing, fighting, and fucking, Jaime was startled when he was suddenly pulled out of his reverie by a warm hand on his shoulder. Jumping, he spun around, only to find himself looking into the kind face of Lady Talla. Pretty, plump, and with a warmth that Jaime had liked the instant he had met her, in another world he could have learnt to love her.

In a world where Brienne of Tarth did not exist, of course.

Sensing his slightly alarmed state, Lady Talla looked at him curiously and then dropped her hand from his shoulder, gazing at him intently with her searching eyes. Jaime thought she expected him to say something, but when nothing came out, she papered over the awkwardness for him.

"There you are," Lady Talla began, as if she had happened upon him accidentally. "I must speak to the cook about the cherry pie, it is entirely too delicious for my figure, and makes you much too quiet at the dinner table. Or was it the wine?"

At the feast, Jaime had been drunk; not on the wine, of course, but on a pair of blue eyes. Nevertheless, he replied to Lady Talla with an easy joke. "Undoubtedly the wine."

As Lady Talla let out a little giggle, Jaime turned back to look at Lady Brienne, who was now practicing a series of thrusts and lunges. To anyone not him, this giantess warrior woman perhaps looked faintly hilarious, not a true knight. Yet the ignoble Kingslayer knew he had never seen someone so disciplined, so devoted to doing their very best and living up to the ideals of honour. To Jaime, Brienne would always be a knight. Sensing that she had lost his attention, Lady Talla put her hand on his arm, coaxing him to look at her once more. She fixed him with a smile - oversized, enthusiastic, and entirely concocted - as she began to speak for the sake of saying something, all while Lady Brienne glinted in the corner of Jaime's eye like a prized jewel.

"You have no idea the trouble I am having trying to decide on a wedding present for you," Lady Talla grinned. When Jaime furrowed his brow - he did not expect anything - she squeezed his arm affectionately. "Oh, I know, _I _am enough, but I do want you to have some little trifle for the occasion. At first, I thought a peacock feather quill... but you have already got one. Then I thought perhaps a tower in Dorne, but they are so difficult to gift-wrap. Oh, Jaime, how do you feel about pleasure barges? A long, sleek one for the Narrow Sea... or a tiny one for your bathtub."

With Brienne dancing before his eyes - _lunge, thrust, parry _\- Jaime knew he had to find the words. "Talla..."

Yet she would not let him speak. "Where to go on our honeymoon? Now, that's a real problem. A trip around the world would be lovely. And then I said: _oh Talla, there must be someplace better to go. _But don't worry, sweetling, I'll..."

Knowing nothing else would get the message across, Jaime lifted his stump and put it on her hand. Lady Talla was too good to flinch away in disgust but, as that was the first time that he had ever touched her like that, her eyes went wide. "Talla..."

"Yes, Ser Jaime?" Talla asked, her tone so quiet that Jaime wondered whether this was her natural voice, the one she hid from him when trying to woo him. Gazing at his betrothed, Jaime suddenly noticed how pretty she was; she had tresses of chestnut hair and rosy cheeks that would fit well on a milkmaid. Furthermore, her eyes were big and brown, and some would say they were beautiful.

Yet they were not blue. They were not Brienne's eyes.

"It's no use... you and I," he croaked, his throat dry. "I am being dishonest to both of us... and utterly unfair to you. When two people talk of marriage..."

Jaime had, in fact, been approached by Randyll Tarly on the topic of his betrothal to his daughter, but he respected Lady Talla far too much as a person to put her aside with cruelty and no explanation. He wanted to give her that at least.

However, it seemed Lady Talla did not want his apologies and excuses. Lifting her hand towards his lips, she silenced him with a gesture. "No, don't. Don't say another word, please," she begged, her voice soft. "You see, there are other things I have been thinking of."

"Which are?" Jaime asked, longing to give her a graceful way out.

Lady Talla took it with aplomb. "Fond as I am of you, I really don't think you're the right man for me. You are much too independent. And I need someone who needs me _desperately_... or at least needs my money desperately."

Jaime could understand that; he had spent years being Cersei's afterthought, unloved and unnoticed. He would not wish such a fate on a young girl with so much to live for. "Lady Talla, I..."

"I have enjoyed every moment we have had together, and I do thank you for that," Lady Talla smiled, her eyes sparkling. Clearly, she treasured the days when her father had brought her to Casterly Rock to talk business. After the feasts in the evenings, Jaime had taken her for a turn of the floor; Lady Talla had laughed and giggled with enthusiasm, but Jaime himself had only been able to think of his wench, who would have blushed and shrunk away from him at the prospect of a dance. Such memories allowed Lady Talla to be strong, it seemed. "Now, if you'll forgive me... I'll go inside, pack my little bags and return to Horn Hill where I belong."

With that, Lady Talla gave him a firm nod, one befitting a comrade in arms. Jaime tried to find a way without words to express his gratitude for her making this difficult business easy, but in the end, he only succeeded in looking sad and disappointed. Noting his expression, Lady Talla lifted a hand and cupped his cheek, smiling as she did so.

"And somewhere out there," she said, her voice hushed as she looked straight into his eyes, "is a young lady who, I think... will never be a knight."

Jaime's eyes suddenly went very wide - he had not realised he was so very obvious - before he pivoted away from Lady Talla to look at his wench once more. She really was magnificent. When he turned back, Lady Talla was smiling at him sadly, but broke the tension by getting on her tiptoes and pecking him on the cheek.

"Goodbye, sweetling," she said before withdrawing, disappearing through the door back into the main building. Alone once more, Jaime's eyes went back to his wench, who was busy fighting a shade in thin air.

_You are wrong, Lady Talla, _he thought. _Brienne is a lady... but she is also a knight._

_My lady knight._

_My love._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope you liked that. If you did, please let me know in a comment or kudos :)


	11. John & Margaret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne tries to work out how to win Ser Jaime...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! The dialogue from this chapter was taken from the 2004 miniseries "North and South", as requested by Annie_Archer, SkyswalkersSister, and ulmo80. I hope you enjoy!

At the welcome feast, Jaime had to be seated on the high table along with Lady Sansa and Lady Talla, as was expected. Brienne held back with Pod, whispering and drinking. In spite of herself, her eyes kept being drawn to Jaime, who would meet her gaze and grin at her, showing his dimples. Her heart fluttered in spite of herself.

_He's betrothed to Lady Talla, _she thought sadly. _Lady Sansa is right - betrothed is not married - but what can I do to make him change his mind? Lady Talla seems to like him, and he seems to like her, and it is a good match._

_Why was I so blind a year ago? We could have been a year married now, maybe if I had said yes I would now have a child in me, maybe..._

When Lady Sansa ordered the tables to be pushed back for dancing, Brienne was broken out of her reverie when she realised the horror that was about to come upon her. Knowing she would not dance for all the gold in the Seven Kingdoms, she fled the room without a second thought, deciding that dancing was for knights and their ladies, and she was neither. Needing some quiet time to think, Brienne went to the armoury and picked up a tourney sword, before returning to the courtyard in order to swing it around and clear her mind.

_What would Ser Jaime need in a wife? _she wondered. _I don't have beauty, grace, or elegance, but maybe I have other things to offer him. Lady Talla is her father's heir, yes, but I am also mine. _

_And Tarth has extensive marble mines._

* * *

Her plan was so ingenious that she barely had time to tell Pod the following morning that she was going to Tarth but would be returning to Winterfell as soon as possible with exciting news. Hadn't Ser Jaime said on the road from the inn that the Westerlands were in need of timber and stone to rebuild after the Long Night? And Tarth had an abundance of stone! Marriage contracts were often drawn up on much less.

Although Pod tried to protest that going to Tarth alone in her condition was a terrible idea, Brienne promised him that, unlike her first attempt to return to her father's house, she would head to Castle Cerwyn and take a boat down the river to White Harbour, from where she would take a ship to Tarth. After making Pod vow to tell Lady Sansa and Jaime she was needed on urgent business on Tarth and not to worry because she would not be gone long, Brienne loaded up her saddle bag and got away as quickly as possible, fearing that bad weather would set in once again and derail her journey.

However, this time she was lucky, and arrived at Castle Cerwyn just before nightfall. After a little searching, she found a comfortable inn with a big fire by which she could warm her feet and have some broth. It was even early enough that she managed to pencil some ideas as to her mining plan on some scraps of parchment and began to formulate the exact words she would say to her father when the time arrived.

_I am sorry I have not seen you for so many years, father, but I ran away for my adoration of Renly Baratheon and return to you for the love of Jaime Lannister._

_So... please can the Kingslayer have some of our marble for free? Pretty please. I promise he's not that bad._

The room she slept in that night was warm and cosy, and it made her wonder what her marriage bed with Jaime would be like. Would it be big, grand, and draped in crimson silks befitting the Lion of Lannister? Or would it be small and intimate so they could hold each other? Brienne thought she would not mind either way, because any bed she shared with Jaime would be the most wonderful of her life.

_Not yet, _she thought. _I have to win him first._

The following morning, Brienne made her way down to the dock to inquire when the next boat to White Harbour would be leaving. When she was informed it would be a few hours yet, she took some time in walking through the small town, taking in the artisan shops and stalls as well as the view of the castle. Eventually, she ended up taking a stroll along the pebbled shore, watching the gulls swooping overhead. It made her think of her childhood home, and the possibility she might one day be free to live there with her husband. Picking up a stone from the ground, Brienne attempted to skim it across the surface of the water, but only managed to make it plonk into the water with a loud splash. Laughing to herself, she turned around and made to walk back up the shore, reckoning it was nearly time to board the boat to White Harbour.

Instead, she found herself looking into the lovely green eyes of Jaime Lannister.

As Brienne gasped in surprise, he gave her a roguish smile that made her heart skip. "Where are you going?" he asked, raising one perfectly sculpted eyebrow at her.

"To Tarth," Brienne mumbled, knowing full well he would be displeased with that answer, given that she had been cudgelled on the back of the head only a few days previously.

Stepping forward, Jaime shook his head bemusedly. When he was close enough to touch her, he reached up and ran his hand over the back of her head, just where the outlaw struck her. When she winced, Jaime let out an amused chuckle. Clearly, he thought her plan to charge back to Tarth was ill thought out. To her surprise, however, he did not pursue the point.

"You will not guess where I have been?"

Furrowing her brow, Brienne really had no good guesses, until Jaime reached into his pocket and brought out the most spectacular blue winter rose; delicate, pretty, but slightly crumpled from the ride from Winterfell. "The godswood?" she amazing, stretching out to take it from him. "Now it is spring, I thought the winter roses had all gone." As Jaime passed the flower to her, their fingers brushed, and it sent a hot wave through Brienne that made her blush. Even though his closeness made her want to faint, she lifted the flower to her nose so she could smell it, determined to commit this moment to memory forever.

"I found it at the foot of a weirwood, you have to look hard." Jaime admitted, as Brienne drew his gift towards the centre of her chest. For the first time in her life, Brienne truly felt like a lady in a song. In spite of her jubilation, Jaime was smiling at her a little warily. "Why are you going to Tarth?"

Not wanting to make Jaime think she was running away from him, Brienne quickly tried to explain. "On business. That is, I have a business proposition for you, Ser Jaime. I need my notes to help explain..."

"You don't need your notes to explain," he said gently, his eyes soft. In that moment, he looked so immensely beautiful Brienne could barely breath. Intoxicated by him, it made detailing her plan that bit harder too.

"I have to get this right, it's a business proposition," she began, searching for the words. "Tarth has some marble mines that would be immensely useful to the rebuilding of Westeros... if only the populace at large were aware of them. Now, I believe if you were to use the marble to rebuild the Westerlands at a discounted rate, you could rebuild your home for half the cost, and the people could come to know the quality of Tarth's marble. So you see... it is only a business matter, you would not be obliged to me in any way. It is you who would be doing..." At that point, Jaime silenced her with the gentlest of touches, as he reached out and took her hand in his, their fingers interlocking, "... me the service."

Although she knew there were a thousand things that could keep them apart, in that moment Brienne did not care. She loved Jaime Lannister, and she would be damned if she did not let him know it. Consequently, Brienne felt no shame in lifting their joint hands to her lips, and then kissing his fingers reverently. At the brush of her lips on his skin, Jaime let out a contented little sigh, before lifting his stump to her and pressing it into the scar on her cheek.

_We're both broken, _Brienne thought, as he eyes fluttered shut and she leant into Jaime's touch, _but maybe we can mend one another._

Although Brienne had loved the flower, the hand-holding, and his gentle touch of her cheek, perhaps the most soothing thing of all was his kiss; strong and sure, but unbearably gentle and full of care. It was not the passionate kiss they had shared in the woods, the comforting clinch in the inn, or even that confused first press of lips back in the godswood so long ago. If anything, it was something much simpler; it was a man kissing a woman whom he loved very dearly, and she returned that affection quite unashamedly with her whole heart.

When they broke apart, Brienne opened her eyes to discover Jaime was holding a ring in his outstretched hand; it was a silver band, with a sapphire clutched in its grasp. Tears sprung to her eyes. Jaime was a man of honour and would not ask her if he was still bound to another woman.

_He must be free, _Brienne thought, _and it is finally time for all this heartache to come to an end._

While continuing to grasp her blue winter rose, Brienne watched as Jaime slid the ring onto her finger, barely believing this situation could be real. Once he had finished, he locked their hands together once more and looked at her with his startling green eyes. In giving her a ring and a flower, he made the young girl who still lived in Brienne of Tarth's heart giggle with pleasure. Yet, even so, there was still some uncertainty in his gaze.

"Are you coming home with me?" Jaime asked, drawing his lip between his teeth in nervousness.

Hating the sight of him worrying, Brienne barely took a breath before she gave him his answer. "I am coming home with you."

At that affirmation, Jaime let out a relieved smile, full of rays of brilliant sunlight that Brienne knew only he ever shone with. Without saying another word, Jaime brought her hand up under his arm and began to walk her back up the shore towards the docks and Castle Cerwyn.

Brienne had no idea where Jaime was leading her, but she knew it was home.

Because home was wherever he was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As ever, I luuuurrrvvveee comments and kudos!


	12. Edward & Jane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime and Brienne work out how to announce their engagement...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for coming back! I am a little behind on answering comments, but will get there!
> 
> The dialogue from this chapter is taken from Chapter 37 of "Jane Eyre" suggested by Bellana. I hope you enjoy!

When Jaime and Brienne returned to Winterfell, it was decided that there should be a period of time before the official betrothal was to be announced, to save both Lady Talla and Lord Randyll's faces, and meaning that the new couple could, in future, go to weddings at Horn Hill without fear.

Although Brienne was happy that a period of nine months respite was set, she found it immensely hard to pretend that she and Jaime nothing more than a lord and his sword, especially in Winterfell where everyone knew the rumours. Consequently, together they decided to go to Tarth, where Jaime would win permission from Lord Selwyn to wed his daughter, and the pair of them could have a few months away from the prying eyes of most of the gossips of Westeros. It did not make it any easier though. In public, they could do little more than smile at each other, and on the sea journey to Tarth (third time lucky), the only sign of their intimacy they could show was the subtle brush of hands as they passed one another on deck. They did not even sleep in the same cabin, lest rumours circulate.

Having loved him in silence for years, Brienne thought it would be no great hardship to continue to adore him from a distance but, somehow, knowing he wanted her too made the whole thing even more aching than it was before. It took her ever bit of restraint not to push him against a mast and kiss him for everything he was worth.

Things were a little easier on Tarth, as Brienne and Jaime had barely strolled into her father's solar when Lord Selwyn had taken one look at them both and said: _so, Lord Jaime, I take it you are here to ask for my daughter's hand. _Jaime had not been able to deny it, and had instead listed all the reasons as to why it would be a good match - Casterly Rock, gold mines, marble mines, the rebuilding of Westeros - but Lord Selwyn had just gazed at him sceptically before loudly declaring that he would never permit a treacherous oathbreaker to marry his daughter, no matter how many wights he had killed during the long night.

At her father's heated refusal, Brienne had gone pale and tried to say something, but nothing had come out as Selwyn had ordered that Ser Jaime would leave Tarth and not darken his doorway again. Clearly holding back tears, Jaime had nodded resignedly and left the room, but Brienne had not followed him. Instead, she stared imploringly at her father.

_Father, you must permit us to marry, because I love him._

_Yes, _Selwyn Tarth had said darkly, _but I doubt a man like that could love a woman like you. He only wants you for your money, and I will not see you reduced like that after you have become a heroine of the Long Night._

There was no use; no matter what she told her father of Ser Jaime's knightly exploits he would not hear any of it - _I will not let him taint your name, starburst - _so eventually Brienne gave up and went to find her beloved. Even if her father would not give his permission, Brienne did not care; she would marry Ser Jaime anyway, because she loved him, and he loved her. It was quite simple.

She found him in the stable, swinging a tourney sword around his head in order to relieve some of his frustrations. Knowing that was what he would be doing, Brienne had bought her own tourney sword and a piece of silk from her saddle bag. In holding them up to him, Jaime knew what she wanted to do and relented instantly; it was a game they had invented to train for fighting in the darkness of the Long Night. It involved one fighter, blindfolded, attempting to defend himself from the other, who attempted to tap hits on their body. It required timing, stealth, and excellent hearing.

All things considered, Jaime was very good at it. They moved backwards and forwards, her pressing forward into his body, him moving back. Perhaps because they were so well attuned to one another, even though he was blindfolded, Ser Jaime seemed to be able to anticipate her every move and would even occasionally get a tap on her. This time, he was even more successful as, momentarily blindsided by his closeness, Jaime had managed to get her to drop her sword and then bundled into her, making them both go tumbling into the floor. It was the closest they had been since his proposal at Castle Cerwyn.

"Gods," Jaime smiled, when he felt the length of Brienne's body pressed into him, "what delusion has come over me? What sweet madness has seized me?"

Laughing, Brienne pulled him on top of her and teased him. "No delusion - no madness: your mind is too strong for delusion, your health too robust for frenzy."

As his smile turned predatorial, Jaime began to run his hand down her side, eventually catching at the point her jerkin met her breeches and then skirting his hand up underneath the former. Brienne let out a gasp as she felt his touch on her bare skin. "I cannot see," he purred, "but I _must _feel, or my heart will stop and my brain will burst."

When Brienne let out a snort at Jaime's desperation, he pulled back slightly to grasp at her fingers, before pulling them close for a kiss. "My love's very fingers, her long strong fingers! If so, there must be more of her."

His silly game was making her laugh, and it only got worse when he began to run his hand all over her, burying his face into her neck and kissing the patch of sensitive skin he found there. "Is it Brienne? This is her shape - this is her size..."

"And this is her voice," Brienne sighed, as Jaime's kisses became open mouthed and bruising. "She is all here: her heart, too. I am glad to be so near you again."

It had been so very long since they had touched, that she pulled his blindfold off to see the love in his green eyes. He smiled when she did so, and then slammed his lips against hers in a rough, passionate kiss. It took some time for them to break it, but when they did, Jaime's voice was husky and his eyes bright. "Brienne, Brienne, my Brienne," he said lovingly, as if seeing her for the first time.

"My dear Jaime," she teased, running her fingers through his hair. "I am come back to you."

"In truth? In the flesh?" he purred, running his hand all over her once more. "My living Brienne?"

"You touch me, ser - you hold me, and fast enough," she giggled.

"My living sweetling!" he said sincerely, unable to stop touching her. "These are certainly her limbs, and these her features; but I cannot be so blessed, after all my misery. It is a dream, like the dreams I have had at night where I have clasped you once more to my heart, as I do now... and kissed you... and felt that you loved me, and trusted that you would not leave me."

_He is worried I will listen to my father, _she thought.

Although they had been playing at a silly game where he was blind and could now see her, there was something in Jaime's voice that was broken and hurt. Wanting to soothe him, Brienne placed a delicate kiss on the bridge of his nose, before making a vow. "Which I never will, ser, from this day."

At that declaration, Jaime once more kissed her, and the two of them spent not an inconsiderable amount of time rolling in the hay, just kissing and laughing and telling each other how much they loved each other. Brienne knew the obvious; her father's denial would not keep them apart. Both of them had been scandals before - he the Kingslayer, she the lady knight - what was being scandalous one more time?

But perhaps there was no need for, quite suddenly, the door to the stable swung open and Selwyn Tarth entered, his gaze firm but understanding. In an instant, Jaime and Brienne leapt off one another as if they had been burned, standing apart from one another quite shame faced. Lord Selwyn gave them both a wry smile.

"Perhaps I was wrong," he said slowly, flicking his eyes from one to the other. "Perhaps it is possible that you love one another. You have my permission... and my blessing."

The smile Jaime the unleashed upon the world was so blinding that Brienne thought it outshone the sun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked that. If you did, please let me know with a lovely comment or kudos!
> 
> Next time... is something a little different.


	13. Jaime & Brienne

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime and Brienne get married...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, I had to post this chapter twice if there is any weirdness.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading my story. As it is the last chapter, I thought to centre the couple this has all been about - Jaime and Brienne - and therefore the dialogue is entirely mine. I hope you enjoy.

Once the required nine months had passed, Jaime and Brienne wasted no time in making sure their love was acknowledged in the light; with a cloak around her shoulders, a septon's vows, and a whispered promise of a life by one another's side. It took place in the sept at Casterly Rock, surrounded by the watching eyes of their friends, family, and his ancestors. Yet, even so, their bonding felt like something new; it was not done for money, nor power, nor greed, but for the simple reason that they loved one another, and a lifetime spent apart would be unbearable for both.

At the feast that followed, there was dancing and singing, and everyone was so drunk that Lady Sansa even volunteered to take old Selwyn Tarth for a jig around the hall. Jaime did not ask his new wife for a dance - which she was immensely grateful for - but he did keep his hand on her thigh all night, warm and firm and good. It just reminded Brienne that all the years of longing and waiting to publicly love Jaime were over, and now she could just revel in being his.

Unashamedly.

The closest they got to dancing all evening was when Jaime tapped on his wine glance and made the announcement that he and his new bride were retiring for the night. There was a raucous cheer at that, but it was not followed by the traditional bedding; Jaime had once again made sure that no ridicule would be aimed at his wife. If Brienne did not already love him to the moon and back, those decisions would have made her love him even more. Yet, even though she desired him, wanted him, loved him, longed for him, Brienne was still fearful as Jaime led her to their bed chamber, towards that great four-poster bed in which she would finally know him like she never had any other man. It was terrifying; terrifying but tantalising.

Until, it suddenly was not. There was an easy way that Jaime disrobed her and then taught her how to shirk his own clothes off in return. In the spaces between touches, kisses, and caresses, Brienne had the immense privilege of just looking at her husband - the smooth skin, red-gold in the firelight, the mane of perfect hair, the jade eyes, the perfect lines of his body - and thought it was an honour above all others. That is, of course, until he finally took her; hard, fast, and passionate, but still achingly tender.

Brienne did know what she had done to let the gods give her such joy.

After it was over, Jaime wrapped his arms around his wife, kissing her gently, before nuzzling his nose into her neck and sighing contentedly. It was so strange, Brienne thought, that this wonderful man treated her with the care he would a priceless Valyrian sword, when she was so aware that the gods had made her a heavy, over-wrought beast, composed of clay rather than fine porcelain.

"Jaime?" she said, her tone soft to match his languid mood.

"Yes, sweetling?" he replied, his breath tickling her neck.

"Why me?"

Her question took a few seconds to compute. "What?"

"Why me?" she repeated, turning to look into his beautiful green eyes. "Of all the women in Westeros, why me?"

Jaime furrowed his brow at her, seemingly baffled that she did not know, "because I love you."

"I love you too," she said back, earning her a radiant smile and another kiss, "but I know what you are. You are a character from a song; a true knight, a valiant warrior. You deserve a woman by your side who can complete your story."

To her surprise, Jaime let out a huff of laughter at that. "Oh, I imagine I will be forgotten by the ballads, and if I _am _remembered it will be as as villain, as the accursed Kingslayer who killed his king and forsook every vow he ever took."

At Jaime's damning evaluation of himself, Brienne shook her head vehemently and pulled his stump into her hand. "No, you are Goldenhand the Just, the defender of the realms of men against the Others in War for the Dawn. The singers will sing songs of your exploits."

"But they will be tawdry ditties in comparison to the epics they will compose in your honour."

Brienne felt herself blush at his compliment. "Don't be silly."

"I'm not being silly," said Jaime earnestly, squeezing her tighter. "When people sing of you, they will honour the Maid of Tarth, the warrior woman who was the victor of the melee at Bitterbridge, who returned the Lady of Winterfell to her home, and who fought wights and Others during the War for the Dawn with her famous sword. So wise she became Lady Sansa's counsel, so brave she took out half the Army of the Dead herself, and so beautiful she tempted the dastardly Kingslayer from his sister's bed and into her arms."

At his over-exaggeration of her exploits, Brienne chuckled. "You tell it so well, ser, even if it is not truth."

"It _is_ the truth," he declared valiantly, tilting her chin so he could look more deeply into her eyes. "You are every story of knights and their ladies come to life at once. How could I, who grew up venerating Arthur Dayne and Barristan Selmy, not fall helplessly in love with their superior, the woman for whom songs will be sung throughout the ages? And if it turns out the singers are all foolish and warble over some fainting wallflower like Margaery Tyrell, I'll hire a high harp and write them all myself."

When Brienne went to laugh, Jaime was wearing an expression of utmost seriousness, which made her question him further. "And what of my great deeds would you write of most, ser?"

Jaime smiled at her so softly she thought her heart would break and then mend itself through sheer joy. "I would sing of how you saved my soul," he whispered, "and never asked for anything in return."

Never having felt more loved, Brienne leaned in to cup his face. "A kiss perhaps?"

"A kiss," Jaime agreed, pulling her in close and kissing her passionately.

And thus, when the songs were all that remained of the Kingslayer and his Wench, of Goldenhand the Just and the Blue Knight, of Jaime and Brienne, the singers spent a thousand years, and a thousand years more singing of a knight and his lady.

Or of a lady and her knight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! This has been a super fun challenge, so let me know what you think in a comment or kudos!


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